


The Dark We Carry

by DeeFortyFive



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Colosseum & XD
Genre: (I mean it is a nuzlocke after all), Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, Nuzlocke, Nuzlocke Challenge, Organized Crime, Pokemon Death, Shadow Pokemon, Storylocke, Worldbuilding, cipher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 112,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeFortyFive/pseuds/DeeFortyFive
Summary: Rui Matsuhara's life changes when she sees a strange, shadowy pokemon. Freed by a mysterious young man, she travels across the desolate Orre region to uncover the conspiracy at the heart of these darknesses--and the possibility of redemption for all of them. "It is not by our light that we know ourselves, but our darkness."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo! Welcome to The Dark We Carry (or TDWC)! This is a story version of a Colosseum nuzlocke which I have already completed. As such, pokemon characters in the story may die or otherwise be removed if their game counterparts perished. This is an an alternate universe with its own worldbuilding which takes place in the same universe as Dear Diary, another nuzlocke I have done (and which I need to upload here as well... oof.) Thanks for reading!

**Arc One: Fool's Gold**  
  
It took Rui a bit of time to realize the car stopped. She blinked blearily, huffed a few breaths through her nose, and squirmed—just for the sake of it.  
  
How long had she been trapped in this cramped, tight trunk? Hours? Several at least? A day? A full day? Possibly.  
  
As had happened often the last few hours, the reality of her situation hit her, and she trembled and moaned slightly. The back of her throat tightened, constricting as though threatening to send up bile, but she forced it down. She had to—she was gagged, there was nowhere for it to go. Since her capture, she’d wept and shaken with sobs, tears streaking her cheeks and snot pooling on her upper lip, but she’d managed to avoid vomit. What would she do if she didn’t—let it pool in her mouth, a little bit dribbling around her gag to trail down her chin and neck, dripping onto her collarbone? Would it push back into her throat, choking or suffocating her?  
  
A dark part of her contemplated allowing it to happen. At first, trussed like game and thrown into a claustrophobic case by two leering, dirty men, she’d entertained thoughts of escape (how?), of overpowering them (with what?), of slipping away and bringing the authorities back to bear on them. Those fantasies had ebbed like the tide as minutes stretched into hours, as the ache set into her joints, unable to move or be worked. She _wasn’t_ going to escape. She _wasn’t_ going to go free. There _weren’t_ going to be any authorities coming to her rescue. Whatever designs these two men had for her, she was at their mercy.  
  
And Rui thought she knew what designs those might be. They’d been alone, in a city unfamiliar to her, so if they wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. But she was alive—alive and stripped down to her underwear. Both men had eyed her with hunger, and she knew what they were contemplating. She doubted—or perhaps hoped—they wouldn’t leave her alive for long, but they clearly had plans in mind before slitting her throat.  
  
To that end, wouldn’t choking on vomit be a mercy?  
  
Her head, deliriously turning the same thoughts over and over and over, registered vaguely that the car had been stopped for a good while. Ten minutes? They’d taken stops before, naturally—for gas, likely, or some other thing. But her intuition told Rui that this was the last stop.  
  
No. She wouldn’t choke. After realizing how unlikely an escape or rescue was, the crushing horror had driven her to scream—scream wildly and desperately, scream and thrash about in the trunk. Of course, the car had been going and she was gagged—she doubted either of the two had heard her, though perhaps they’d felt the thrashes. All she’d accomplished was to exhaust herself and make her throat burn. But after that, alone in the dark with nothing but her own misery for company, her despair had slowly metamorphosed into resolve. If this was her fate, then so be it—but she wouldn’t make it easy on them. She’d fight, as pointless as it would be. She’d fight them.  
  
Outside, voices were dipping and raising, speaking things she couldn’t make out. There were other sounds, two. Had they taken her to some place with more people? Members of their group? She didn’t care. She’d fight them. She’d lose, but dammit, she’d fight!  
  
She rolled her ankles and bent her knees as best she could, wincing from the ache of joints stiffened from misuse. The men had gagged her and clasped cuffs on her wrists—nothing to do for either. But for her legs, they’d simply resorted to winding tape around her ankles. It had taken several hours of uncomfortable, dedicated wiggling, but the tape was off now, and her legs were free.  
  
The noise outside petered off. The trunk would be opening soon. Rui shifted around, squirming as best she could so that her head was as far away from the trunk as possible, facing. She drew her legs back and waited.  
  
Minutes crawled by like a glacier grinding its way down a valley. The noise had died down but somebody was fooling around with the trunk. Were they having trouble opening it? Was the mechanism broken?  
  
Finally it cracked and pulled up.  
  
Given how long Rui had suffocated in darkness, even the smallest light would have blinded her. But the sun was directly behind the man’s silhouette, and the light seared her eyes so badly she thought she might faint. But through it all she saw the silhouette moving in. Her legs were against her body, so the man had to partially lean into the trunk to grab at her…  
  
She squared her right heel up with his face and smashed it in. There was the satisfying _crunch_ of a broken nose and the figure flinched back, his head smacking the top of the trunk. As he reeled, his hand clutched the inside of the trunk for support. She hammered her heel at the fingers. The man fully retreated from the interior of the trunk and said something but she couldn’t parse it, the blood was hammering too hard in her ears.  
  
More figures, more silhouettes. They reached in cautiously and she kicked at them with abandon, again and again and again—landing hits on arms and fingers and once or twice on torsos and several times on nothing at all. They were saying things she couldn’t hear; there was a vague muffled sound which some part of her recognized as her own voice, screaming wordlessly through the gag. This was it! She would fight and fight and—  
  
And suddenly a warm light the color of strawberries filled the trunk. The light cocooned her entire body and then she couldn’t move. _They have a Psychic pokemon,_ she realized. She tried fruitlessly to thrash and worm her way out as the red glow carried her out of the trunk and into daylight.  
  
A young, playful voice, like a boy’s just reaching adolescence, hit her ears. “Boy, she’s fighting real fierce…”  
  
Another, more mature voice, the deep contralto of a self-assured woman, answered. “Set her down gently. We don’t her to get hurt.”  
  
The psychic energy followed the directions, relinquishing her onto the stony ground. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness, she made out buildings of stone and large features of rolling water—she realized with some surprise that she knew this place. Phenac City, jewel of the Orresian wastes.  
  
Two pokemon approached her cautiously. They looked similar to one another—both four-legged, both furry, of decent size. One was pink with large ears, a two-pronged tail, and a small but gleaming red jewel set in its forehead. The other was sleek, pure black except for soft glowing rings of yellow bioluminescence and enormous crimson-hued eyes.  
  
An Espeon and an Umbreon—two rare pokemon she’d seen only in books or on TV.  
  
The Eeveelutions exchanged a look and the Umbreon opened its mouth. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”  
  
The words came from the Umbreon, and the voice was that of the confident woman Rui had heard. She tensed up, not believing it.  
  
The Espeon turned and huffed. “C’mon,” he said in his chipper adolescent voice, “you know how good I am!”  
  
A moan escaped unbidden through Rui’s mouth, filtering around the gag. _I’ve gone insane,_ she thought. _I’m hallucinating. This is a dream and I’m still trapped in that trunk._  
  
The pokemon exchanged a worried look, and then parted as two people rushed towards Rui. One of them—a young man in jogging gear—gently raised her up off the ground and began fidgeting the gag out of her mouth. The other, a brunet woman in business attire, gaped down at Rui before hurriedly shedding her coat and draping it across Rui.  
  
“They stripped her down almost naked,” the woman said, a slight but furious edge to her voice. “Those—monsters.”  
  
“Hands are cuffed,” the man said, still undoing the gag. “I’ve got her if you want to look for a key.”  
  
The woman’s face tightened with more anger at that bit of information. She nodded and stalked over to the car.  
  
The gag finally came loose and Rui heaved heavy breaths, able to fill her lungs fully for the first time in hours. “Hey, you’re gonna be alright,” the man said, his tone faltering. “You’re okay now, alright?”  
  
Rui simply shuddered and whimpered, still trying to process the information. The Espeon drew close and sniffed her arm; his nose was wet against her skin. “She’s real stressed,” he said. “I can smell it.”  
  
The Umbreon rolled her eyes. “Yes, anyone can see she’s stressed.”  
  
The Espeon shot her a nasty look over his shoulder. “Shut up, sis! I’m just trying to help!”  
  
“I’m… I’m going insane,” Rui said. The words came out raw and hushed.  
  
The jogger frowned and looked at her. “I didn’t hear that. Are you okay?”  
  
She giggled deliriously. “The pokemon… I can hear them. I must be g-going crazy…”  
  
The Espeon drew back with a start and exchanged a muted look with his sister.  
  
A few minutes passed before the businesswoman came back with a small key. As she worked the handcuffs loose, a third person strode towards the gathering.  
  
Despite being younger than either the man or the woman, he exuded a commanding aura which left Rui with no doubt as to who was in charge. He radiated control, and even without a heavy canvas duster and a swollen, bruised nose dribbling a bit of blood, he still would have worn a “don’t-mess-with-me” attitude. He was Rui’s own age or close to it, nineteen or twenty.  
  
After the cuffs were off, Rui rubbed her raw wrists, wincing as she did so. The motion caused the woman’s jacket to slip off, revealing just how little she had; without missing a beat, the newcomer unbuttoned his duster and swept it off. “Here,” he said, proffering it to her. His voice sounded congested, though that was doubtless from his nose.  
  
His nose…  
  
Rui remembered the satisfaction of smashing her foot into a face, and the assault on the other figures. She scanned the jogger and the woman, noticing a few bruises, mostly on their hands and arms.  
  
“…oh,” she said quietly, using the duster to cover herself like a blanket. “I’m—I’m sorry…”  
  
The woman frowned, followed Rui’s gaze to a growing bruise on her arm, and then laughed. “I don’t think any of us care that much right now, honey,” she said, patting Rui on the arm. “Why, even that guy…”  
  
“It’s fine,” the newcomer said with a dismissive wave of his hand. And the hell of it was, Rui was sure he _meant_ it. Whoever this guy was, he’d shrugged off a broken nose after only a minute or two. She gazed in amazement.  
  
The newcomer squatted near her, resting his arms on his knees. Without the duster hiding his body, his build was apparent—he had the lean, muscled physique of a swimmer or a runner. His pants were black canvas, his tight tee the same color and devoid of ornament. His sturdy-looking workboots were also black. Color came from his dusty-tan hair, completely tousled and uncontrolled, and from the mirrored shades perched on his scalp. “I’m Wes,” he said. “Wes Sands. You alright?”  
  
Rui nodded, still in a daze. “Rui… Matsuhara,” she said. “‘m from Kanto.”  
  
Though Wes’s face remained stoic, she saw the woman’s brow knit, and felt the jogger tense behind her. Already, Rui knew the familiar machinery was working in the woman’s head. _A Kantonian name,_ she’d be thinking, _but she speaks Unovan with a perfect Orresian accent, and that red hair…_  
  
Whatever. Rui’d spent her whole life dealing with it. She’d handle it as it came.  
  
“What happened to the guys? The…” Visions of their cruel, jeering faces filled her mind, and she swallowed. “The ones who stuck me in there.”  
  
Wes’s smile grew tight. “Their car broke down, so they wanted to ‘borrow’ my bike. I told them to piss off, and they grew insistent. Their mistake.”  
  
“We both heard the commotion and came running,” the woman said, making a gesture that included herself and the jogger. “Not that he needed help. It was the most one-sided match I’ve ever seen.” She looked at Wes. “Both those men had _teams_ of pokemon, and with just two Eeveelutions, you humiliated them! It was effortless!”  
  
Wes made the same dismissive gesture as before. “It was nothing.”  
  
“Hell yeah,” the Espeon said behind him, face proud and mischievous. “Any battle with _the ultimate badass_ involved is guaranteed to be totally one-sided!”  
  
The Umbreon shook her head. “What have I told you about boasting?”  
  
“It’s not boasting if it’s _true,_ though!”  
  
Rui stared at them for a moment until she realized that the people were still talking. “…thought they were just thieves,” Wes was saying. “I would’ve made more an effort to stop them if I knew they were kidnappers.  
  
“After the fight was over and they were running, we heard something inside the trunk,” said the lady. “And that’s how we found you. Um… they didn’t… hurt you, did they?”  
  
Rui shook her head blearily. “They tied me up, and took my clothes and Pompom, but they didn’t—” She froze. “Pompom. Pompom! They took my Aipom!” She searched the faces of the others. “Please, do you know where she is?”  
  
“…they didn’t use one in the battle against me,” Wes said. He glanced at the woman.  
  
She shook her head. “I tore that car inside-out looking for the handcuff keys. There wasn’t a poke ball anywhere inside.”  
  
Pompom was gone. Her mother’s gift—her last memento—was gone. Rui had been wrong all along. Freedom _was_ in the cards—but only for her.  
  
She broke down and started crying. Not quiet sobs, but full on—loud, messy. She didn’t care who was around. She didn’t care who saw. She was free and she was safe and she wasn’t going to be raped and killed and she was never, ever going to see her Aipom again.  
  
Her three saviors let her get it out, not judging or looking uncomfortable. The Eeveelutions shooed away any inquisitive onlookers.  
  
When Rui finished, the others helped her up. The woman—Ximena—offered them use of her flat. “I live close by,” she said, “so it’s no trouble. I can lend you some clothes.”  
  
“Thank you,” Rui said.  
  
Ximena nodded and then looked at Wes. “And as for you, that nose looks real nasty. If you’re not going to go to a hospital, you can at least clean up at my place. I have a first-aid kit.”  
  
Niles, the jogger, offered to come with. “In case those freaks show up again,” he said, cracking his knuckles.  
  
Wes smiled. “Thanks, but I think I have it covered.” He put his hand on Niles’s shoulder. “Someone should probably tell the cops, though. Not to mention that I’m certain that car is stolen.”  
  
Niles considered it for a moment and then nodded. Ximena gave him her address and then he was off.  
  
They walked off to the flat, Rui leaning on Wes for support. She’d buttoned up the duster as an attempt at modesty—not ideal, but the best she could do. It actually fit her well—she was tall for a woman, and of a similar height to Wes, who was making small-talk with Ximena on the way back.  
  
That was only the first conversation happening. Rui did her best to ignore the second one, between the two pokemon following.  
  


* * *

  
  
Ximena had insisted that Wes and Rui could both stay the night. Rui had accepted blindly—not knowing where she would go or what she would do—but Wes had taken coaxing. Only a little, though.  
  
His nose had stopped bleeding, but was now a truly ugly mass of swelling and bruises. He’d managed to set it himself (the thought made her want to faint) and had bound it with gauze and bandages. When she’d tried apologizing for it again, he’d waved her off.  
  
“I’ve had worse,” he said, popping in a pair of over-the-counter painkillers. “Besides,” he continued, “you thought I was one of those creeps.”  
  
Even after borrowing some of Ximena’s clothes (which were not the best fit, as Ximena wasn’t Rui’s height, but they would do for a few days) he’d let her keep the duster “for security. Just for a day or two, though, okay?”  
  
She’d thanked him. The duster was a deep navy, a pleasant color.  
  
The police had interviewed her, but her descriptions of the two abductors—both short, both blond, both with glasses, one wearing a trapper hat—hadn’t led anywhere, nor had the car. She’d filed a missing pokemon report for Pompom, but both the police and Rui herself knew that the likelihood of encountering the Aipom again was slim to none.  
  
Now she was showering—a deep, long one. Rather than bask, she’d spent most of it scrubbing furiously. She needed to feel safe again, and comfortable in her own body.  
  
After the fourth scrub, she finally relented and switched to washing her spray of red-orange hair. Unlike her hometown in Kanto, here such colors didn’t attract more than a casual glance—Rui looked forward to blending in more easily.  
  
Flipping the water off, she toweled dry, still mired in thought. Her abduction, Pompom, Wes and the others, the grinning faces of her captors…  
  
The shadows she’d seen…  
  
She shuddered, and not just from the chill of the water against her skin. She hadn’t mentioned that yet—nor had she mentioned understanding Wes’s pokemon. It was all too much to take for now.  
  
Returning to Ximena’s tiny guest bedroom (Wes was sleeping on the couch), Rui dressed in makeshift pajamas (a pair of Ximena’s old sweats and a faded, slightly holey t-shirt) and flopped on the bed without crawling beneath the covers. The room was tiny, spartan, dusty, cramped, and infinitely better than being stuck in a trunk for several hours. Outside her window, Phenac looked as gorgeous in the evening as it did in the sun, the smooth stonework fading into a pleasant violet color, the faraway burble of water tumbling down aqueducts like a music box. Rui grabbed a pillow, hugged it close to herself, and against her better judgment, drifted off…  
  
The creak of her door woke up. She snapped up—it was darker now, genuine night—tense and gasping. Two pairs of eyes stared back at her, one with a jewel inlaid over them.  
  
“Wait!” said the Espeon in his boyish voice. “It’s just us, don’t be worried!”  
  
Chest heaving, Rui eyed them. The Eeveelutions padded in.  
  
“So,” he began, “I’m Cap, and this is my sister Luna. Um… Can you understand us?”  
  
Rui was afraid to confront the truth. Once, perhaps, that fear might have paralyzed her—but the trial in the trunk had changed all that. She nodded.  
  
Cap lit up, but before he could say more, Luna cut in. “Wait,” she said. “Let’s make absolutely sure this is not just coincidence. Human, if you can understand us, then… hold up seven fingers.”  
  
She obliged and the Umbreon blinked. Cap, meanwhile, gasped with delight and sprung up on the bed next to her.  
  
“I can’t believe it!” he said. “Lady, you are _the coolest!”_  
  
Rui fought down the urge to giggle manically. “So this is real,” she said. “This is really happening.”  
  
Luna followed her brother onto the bed, and then the Umbreon did something Rui did not expect—she nuzzled her under her arm, a warm, comforting gesture. Cap followed her lead, and for a few minutes, Rui was content to just sit there in bliss, letting the pokemon help soothe her anxiety away.  
  
“I know you’ve had a rough few days,” Luna said. “And I don’t know for certain what’s happened to you, but let me just say this.”  
  
The Umbreon shot a confident, assured smile at Rui.  
  
“Welcome to Orre.”


	2. Chapter 2

After the initial shock had worn off, Rui was happy to spend the night talking to her new friends. The two Eeveelutions were a joy to speak with, and just as fascinated by her newfound comprehension as she was.  
  
“In all my experience, I’ve never had a human understand us!” Cap said excitedly, his pronged tail swishing back and forth. “This is the coolest thing ever!” He’d situated himself on her lap (partially—he was a mite too big to fully fit) and had settled into a low, almost undetectable purr.  
  
Luna huffed good-naturedly. “In all your experience, huh, shrimp?” she said drily. “After all, you have _so much_ of it.”  
  
Cap stuck his tongue out at her. “Whatever! Uncle Orange told us all about the world outside Orre—but he never mentioned anything about people who can speak to pokemon, did he?”  
  
Luna’s mouth tightened. “No, I suppose he didn’t,” she muttered. She draped one paw over the other and rested her head on them.  
  
“Uncle Orange is the coolest!” Cap continued. “He was our Flareon uncle. He took care of us till we found Wes!”  
  
Rui smiled—it was hard not to. The little Espeon’s enthusiasm was just so infectious. “He sounds really great, Cap.”  
  
“Oh, he _totally_ is,” Cap said, nodding vigorously. “He’s basically, like, my favorite pokemon ever.”  
  
“Except me, I hope,” Luna drawled from the side.  
  
Cap stuck his tongue out at her again. “You wish, sis!”  
  
“You know, Cap,” Rui said, errantly running her hand through his fur, “I understand why Luna got her name, but how’d you get yours? Do you have like a little hat or something?”  
  
Luna rolled her eyes in a here-we-go gesture.  
  
“Nah, ‘m afraid I don’t have a cap of my own _yet,_ though I’d like to get one,” he said. “Actually, ‘Cap’ is just short for my real name.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah! My real name is…”—and here he sprang suddenly from her lap to pose triumphantly on the bed, battle-ready, his head held proudly high, with a perfectly self-confident smile on his face— _“Captain Justice!”  
  
_ Rui fought desperately to keep the giggles down, a venture which was not made easier by Luna’s aggrieved, long-suffering look behind his back.  
  
“L-like the… cartoon character?” Rui said.  
  
Cap deflated just a little bit. “Yeah, so? He’s cool! He helps people!” His head nodded insistently. “He’s a hero of justice who fights hard and protects the weak and always does the right thing. He’s the best at what he does and everyone looks up to him, and no matter what, even when things look rough, he never gives up!” Cap began bouncing on the bed, shaking it enough that Rui almost fell off; she devolved into laughter.  
  
“ _And and_ he represents hope and courage to an entire generation that grew up with him, and no matter what, you can count on him to be there!” Cap continued. “And can we just talk about his powers for a little bit, okay? All the other heroes have shapeshifting or agelessness or shoot fireballs or have the blessing of Ho-oh or whatever! But Captain Justice is a normal, ordinary guy whose only power is to know when people need help, yet he still stands up to the darkness and fights guys way stronger than him without giving up or giving in. He’s the selfless hero of the people and there is _nothing wrong_ with being named after Captain Justice!”  
  
“I never said there was!” Rui protested behind continued laughter. “I was just—a little unprepared, that’s all!”  
  
Cap nodded and sat down, the matter closed.  
  
Until.  
  
“Well,” Luna yawned behind him, “ _I’m_ named after a goddess, but you do you.”  
  
With a wordless cry, Cap pounced on his sister. The two of them rolled around on the floor, scrabbling with each other and trading cuffs and play bites. Rui grinned; it was hard not to watch them and smile. Young pokemon like Cap were known for being rambunctious, of course, but he overflowed with an exuberant energy that Rui hadn’t seen since…  
  
Since Pompom.  
  
The smile faded a little bit as she remembered her stolen Aipom. Pompom had been at the height of her excitable youth when Rui had received her a few years prior. Though she’d slightly calmed down over the years, the Aipom had never really grown out of her energy…  
  
Rui blinked, realizing the play-fight had stopped. Both pokemon were looking at her with concern. “Are you alright?” asked Luna. “You look a little bit… forlorn.”  
  
Rui glanced to the side, wearing a sad smile. “Yeah. I was just remembering Pompom. It’s weird to think that I had her just a day or two ago, and now…”  
  
She trailed off, letting her eyes wander to the window. The stars speckling the sky over Phenac looked like little bits of diamond sprinkled in the heavens. Saffron City had been so bright, so vibrant; you could never see any stars at night there, not like this.  
  
Silence reigned for a few minutes before Cap hopped back on the bed. He tentatively nudged his way under Rui’s arm; she wrapped it around him, letting his warmth sink into her. “You can talk about her, if you want,” he said quietly.  
  
Rui sighed. “Pompom was special,” she said. “A gift from my mom for my fourteenth birthday. She had this mischievous energy, but she always knew not to take things too far—and she understood when I needed comfort. She was small, so as not to cause trouble when I moved around the big city, and just the right size to curl up against you when you slept… she was…”  
  
She sniffed and blinked. She hadn’t realized she was tearing up. “She was the perfect pokemon,” she said, wiping her face. She smiled down at Cap. “You remind me of her, actually. You both make me smile.”  
  
“Yeah, I can see that,” Cap said with confidence. “People can’t help but smile around me cause I’m the best and I tell the best jokes. Unlike my sister, who only _thinks_ she’s funny.”  
  
At that comment, Luna began grooming her paws with tremendous dignity.  
  
“Was Pompom funny?” Cap continued. “Did she tell jokes?”  
  
Rui frowned. “Jokes? I… I have no idea.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I understood her.”  
  
“Huh?” Cap turned his head sideways. “What, could she not talk or something?”  
  
Luna’s voice came from behind. “I think I understand. This ability… it’s recent, isn’t it?”  
  
Rui glanced at the Umbreon and, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded.  
  
“I thought so. It was probably being held captive that woke it. Most psychics manifest by childhood, but sometimes it takes trauma in the teen years or young adulthood to—”  
  
Rui cut her off with a guffaw. “Psychic? _Me?_ Luna, c’mon. You don’t think I’m one of those weirdos, do you?”  
  
Cap abruptly pulled out from under her arm, shooting her an offended look.   
  
“Aww, Cap sweetie, I don’t mean psychic pokemon! It’s just human psychics who are a little… well, you know.”  
  
Cap still looked miffed, but consented to nuzzle back up to her. Luna, however, was gazing inscrutably at Rui.  
  
“You don’t think you’re psychic?” she asked.  
  
“Well no,” Rui said, exasperated. Wasn’t it obvious? Psychics were people like Sabrina (who should have _never_ booted the Karate King out of his Gym position, regardless of how their match went.) They were cold enigmas who could control the world around them with a thought and probe the minds of others. How could you trust them not to hurt or manipulate you? How did you know any thought that entered your mind was yours? How many ‘accidents’ throughout history were actually a psychic playing with the physical world from afar?  
  
Rui wasn’t _anything_ like that. “I can’t control things with my mind,” she said. “Or think thoughts into other peoples’s heads. See?” She pointed at the small lamp on her bedstand and narrowed her brows. Despite imagining the lamp floating up, it remained affixed firmly to the desk.  
  
Luna and Cap shared a knowing look. “You know that psychic powers manifest in many unusual ways,” Luna explained—her tone patient but with an undercurrent of exasperation, as if she was a teacher who had been asked a question on something she’d explained clearly in the lesson. “What you described is simply the most common manifestation. Pokemon empathy is the least common, but still prevalent, as well as channeling power—”  
  
“Channeling power is sacred and _nothing_ like psychics!” Rui hissed.  
  
Luna blinked for a moment before nodding. “Right, you’re Kantonian. I know that channelers are a big deal for you and the Johtonese…”  
  
“You’re damn right they are,” Rui said, remembering the first time her father had taken her to the temple in Lavender Town. Compared to the small shrine near their house, the grandiose tower had seemed like the fabled Hall of Origin from the stories.  
  
Luna sighed. “Rui, I won’t use the ‘p’ word if it makes you touchy, but I think you should realize that what you’re doing now, and the timing with which you managed to do it, is very… indicative. Of that. Okay?”  
  
Rui grumbled and didn’t say anything in response.  
  
“…all right then. Actually, it’s getting late and we shouldn’t have kept you up this late anyway—you need to rest after what happened to you. Come on, little brother.”  
  
Cap reluctantly squirmed his way out from under Rui’s arm. “Night, Rui,” he said in his chipper adolescent’s voice. “See you tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course,” Rui replied. Once the room was quiet again, she found her mind spinning in thought. The two of them were so cute and nice—just like Pompom.  
  
 _You can’t expect them to be replacements,_ a cynical part of her warned. _They’re Wes’s pokemon, not yours. You’ll see them for a few more days and that’s it._  
  
The thought saddened her, but it wasn’t wrong. Cap and Luna weren’t hers, and what would she do—demand he move to Agate Village with her so that she could chat with his pokemon?  
  
…chat.  
  
Now that they were gone, it once more seemed surreal. She could speak… to pokemon? Could she really do that?  
  
 _Wouldn’t be the first weird thing that happened to you the last few days,_ that same part of her whispered.  
  
She shook the thought out. One thing at a time. And what Luna had said… just because Rui could understand pokemon didn’t make her a psychic, right?  
  
The lamp caught her eye, and she reached at it with her mind. She was almost afraid of what would happen if it _did_ move.  
  
But it didn’t and she sighed with relief.  
  
Yeah. Nothing major here.  
  
\---  
  
“…body count is unknown as authorities are still combing through wreckage, but thus far, we can now say for certainty—the destroyed building was almost certainly a hideout for Team Snagem.”  
  
Rui couldn’t take her eyes away from the television. The newscaster, a tall woman with olive skin and long hair, stood superimposed over an image of black smoke spuming out of a craggy and imposing canyon carved into the side of a rocky bluff. The image shifted, showing the twisted wreckage of a one-proud building. The structure was a mass of twisted metal and concrete, and personnel buzzed at the foot of it.  
  
Ximena, also eyeing the screen, shook her head in disgust. “ _Adios, qué no regreses,_ ” she said. “Bastards can go rot for all I care, eh? Thieves, the lot of them.”  
  
“And murderers,” Wes added quietly from the room’s edge.  
  
“ _Sí,_ ” Ximena said. “That too.” She set down another plate of toast in front of him and went to go get one for Rui as well.  
  
“Oh, I’m—I’m fine, really!” Rui protested. She felt bad—she’d woken this morning to find Ximena wailing about having only muffins and toast to serve her guests. “I don’t need any more.”  
  
“Sure you don’t,” Ximena said sternly. “I’m sure you had much to eat in that car, you were well-fed the whole time.” She set another plate of toast in front of Rui and smiled at her. “You need to get back your strength, alright? Since you’re staying for one more day.”  
  
Rui blushed but nodded. Ximena had talked her into staying until they went shopping to get Rui some proper clothes and supplies, and Wes had agreed to join after some prompting.  
  
“I need to go get ready for work,” Ximena said, bustling out of the kitchen. “Eat up, okay?”  
  
While she was gone, Rui continued watching the broadcast with interest. She’d been warned about Team Snagem before coming to Orre, but had never really heard that much about them. “Who are these people?” she asked. “And why do they call themselves Team Snagem?”  
  
Wes shook his head. “They don’t. That’s just a name the common folk ascribe to them. It’s too cutesy for them to pick themselves.”  
  
Rui swallowed the last bite of toast and glanced at him. “Then what’s their own name?”  
  
“They call themselves the Brotherhood—or so I’ve heard,” Wes said. “The common name tells you as much about them as you can expect. They Snag pokemon from trainers.”  
  
“So they’re pokemon thieves.”  
  
He shook his head again. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Snagging a pokemon completely severs its connection with its original poke ball. They can use a special machine to basically catch trained pokemon as if they were wilds.”  
  
Rui couldn’t help but gasp. “But that’s—that’s awful! Those poor pokemon!”  
  
“Yeah,” Wes said, quietly. “And they kill people, too. Extort. That sort of thing. They’re a proper gang.”  
  
“I wonder if… those two… were affiliated with them.”  
  
Wes’s eyes flickered towards her for a brief moment—she caught a flash of sympathy, and what might have been dry amusement. “I’d doubt it. Those two seemed like common thugs. Not to downplay what happened to you, of course, but I doubt they were Brotherhood.”  
  
“It’s alright.” She shivered nonetheless. “Still, those Snagem types seem like a bad bunch.”  
  
“They were. Personally, I think someone should have blown up that hideout a long time ago…”  
  
The screen suddenly cut back to the newscaster, who was holding a hand to her ear. “Yes, yes—we can now say that authorities have confirmed the wreckage of Snag Machines inside the building. These extremely rare items, of which only a handful were known to exist, were Team Snagem’s claim to fame—and now we can confirm that all of them appear to be accounted for. The machines are destroyed—Orre can rejoice.”  
  
From the corner of her eye, Rui saw Wes’s face tighten in what might have been slight confusion. What was up with him? She shook her head and returned her gaze to the TV. The quality was getting fuzzy. Unlike back home, where everyone had the freshest plasma screen, here in Orre people made do with obsolete. Ximena, who by all appearances had a rather upscale—if cozy—apartment and living, made do with a single, boxy, rather small CRT. Rui reflected on just how different it would be here. Orre was the poorest of the regions…  
  
“…still aren’t certain of the cause of the explosion,” the caster continued, “but it appears to have been jury-rigged from inside the base using native materials. Authorities are suggesting a job from a turncoat member—”  
  
The caster was cut off by a shrill telephone ring. Ximena, her makeup half done, burst into the kitchen. “ _Mi llamada!_ ” she said, cradling the receiver against her face. Rui had to hand it to her—the other woman didn’t seem to mind if Rui and Wes saw her half done up, or if they listened to her side of the call.  
  
“Yes… it is.” Ximena’s brows narrowed. “And who is this?” Her eyes widened. “Oh—oh! Yes, I—” She cut off, listening to the other end. “I’m sure she would… yes. I will. G-goodbye.” She hung up the receiver, looking quite shaken.  
  
“Rui… dear,” she said. “You may want to brace yourself.”  
  
Rui, who was sitting down on a chair and leaning on the table, didn’t know how she could brace herself any more than she already was. “Alright.”  
  
“That was the mayor’s office. Mayor Es Cade heard what happened yesterday and wishes to speak with you… you have an appointment at one o’clock.”  
  
Rui tried to find the words. “I… oh. I, uh…”  
  
Rui had thought that speaking to the police the previous night would have been the end of her interaction with the authorities. She tried to find solace by looking at Ximena, but the other woman was clearly too surprised to help Rui maintain composure. Wes was stoic-faced as usual, and—  
  
A warmth by her hand. There was Cap, grinning up at her, and Luna half-dozing across the room, had also perked up, and looked supportive.  
  
Right. She could do this. Anything to stop what had happened to her from happening to somebody else. Maybe she could help the mayor bring in those crooks.  
  
“I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll do it.”  
  
“I can come too, if you’d like,” Wes said. Rui glanced at him. “I can give details about the teams of those two thugs, and the way they tried to steal my cycle. And besides… if I come, maybe I can bring Cap and Luna along too.”  
  
Relief flooded her. “I’d appreciate that.”  
  
\---  
  
Wes admired her.  
  
She stood dwarfed by the statues outside the mayor’s office, twin behemoths made to look like Tyranitar. She was, perhaps, half as tall as either statue. She was uncertain, visibly trembling, and still bruised on her wrists and ankles—but she was there, and ready to discuss a nightmare that was scarcely a day old. People thought Wes strong, but that was because he conformed to a particular idea of strength—one which he increasingly found hollow. It was people like this young woman, who stood firm in the face of doubts, that Wes wished he could emulate.  
  
1pm had passed and the mayor had still not invited them in. If they weren’t so unimportant, Wes would have thought it a classic power play—tell someone to arrive an hour before you plan to see them and make them wait on you. That said, if Es Cade really needed to impress two people barely out of their teens, he wasn’t worth his salt as a mayor at all.  
  
But it wouldn’t have been out-of-character for Phenac. Of all the cities in Orre, those dusty, dirty holes where people eked out what existence they could, Phenac was the true exception. Every building was carved of exquisite smooth stone, and the whole city was ringed by a large wall with a great flowing aqueduct on top. The water never stopped flowing there, and that was Phenac’s true display of wealth—that it could show off water in the desert.  
  
Wes hated Phenac, and places like it. Gaudy, smooth, polished, and utterly soulless. It was places like these, with their empty smiles and clean clothes, that made groups like the Brotherhood so appealing to the destitute youth who made up their rank-and-file: simply hold up Phenac and its excesses as the bogeyman, the justification for every bad thing you did. In Phenac, a kid lifting a wallet would be kicked, spat on, ran out of town. Those same people who spurned the thief would go to a bank, and sit behind a window, and bilk poor folk out of all they had, and smile while they did it, and repeat the process a million times, stealing more in a week than a decade’s worth of pinched wallets.  
  
If Es Cade was anything like the city he ran, Wes knew he wouldn’t like him.  
  
The front door opened and a small, rotund man in dapper clothing made his way to Rui. Wes quietly stood up and made his way over to them—unobtrusively, of course. This was her rodeo, not his.  
  
“So sorry to keep you waiting,” the bumbler said. “I got a sudden and urgent call from a business partner—I tried to keep it as brief as I could. Let’s head into my office.”  
 _  
His_ office? Wes was taken aback, but Rui rolled with the surprise easily. “Of course, mister mayor,” she said.  
  
The interior was air-conditioned to contrast with the desert outside—perhaps too much so. Rui began to tense up against the cold.  
  
“Here,” Wes said, removing his duster and offering it to her—as he had yesterday. “For good luck.”  
  
She smiled in thanks and donned it. It was a good fit—she was pretty tall for a girl, and it flapped down to about her knees. Cap prowled ahead, seemingly innocuous yet ready to unleash his psychic attacks at a moment’s notice (Wes had trained him well) and Luna flowed alongside him, eyes everywhere at once.  
  
“Easy, girl,” Wes murmured to her. “There’s no danger in a place like this.”  
  
Which was only a half-truth. Places like this were plenty dangerous—but they tended to aim for your pocketbook or your home title, not your eyes or bones.  
  
The mayor’s office was predictably plush, somehow roomy yet cozy—all darkwood shelves and rich carpets and furnishings. The man offered two chairs to Wes and Rui and then plopped behind his desk. Rui sunk into hers immediately; Wes followed her lead.  
  
The mayor launched into the typical sort of babble Wes had expected—so sad to hear what happened, just awful, we’re working so very hard to catch the thieves, blah blah blah. Finally after he was finished, the old man leaned back.  
  
“But I was hoping I could get your help, young lady. Could you tell me more about these abductors?”  
  
“Well, there were two—”  
  
Es Cade waved her into silence with a dismissive gesture. “Yes, I read the report you gave to our officer. What I was more interested about is why two-bit scum would have taken the risk of abducting a young woman, when the risk of being found…”  
  
“I would assume the obvious reason, sir,” Rui said bitterly.  
  
Es Cade nodded, a point acknowledged. “Indeed. Nevertheless, it seems curious that they felt the need to travel for hours and hours just to make it to my fair city, hrmmm? To be frank, my dear, I think they were taking you somewhere in particular—which means that they had a greater purpose in moving you. Erm, so to speak. So what happened to make the whole situation come about?”  
  
“I told everything to the police last night,” Rui said stubbornly. Wes suddenly picked up on what the mayor had doubtless been pursuing all along—there was a certain reticence to Rui’s story. According to her, the two men had suddenly and violently attempted to subdue her—but she refused to elaborate on anything more than that with a doggedness that seemed uncharacteristic of her.  
  
He’d labeled Es Cade a bumbler, but it seemed he had misjudged. The old man, fat and stout, balding except two almost comical puffs of greying hair on the sides of his head, was shrewder than Wes had realized. His skin was weathered from long days in the sun. This was a man who _played up_ an image of a bumbler, who cultivated it.  
  
“Please, miss Matsuhara,” Es Cade pressed, pronouncing her exotic Kantonian name flawlessly. “Anything you tell me can help me protect other citizens. With the recent dissolution of Team Snagem, this is our chance to really dial back crime in the region.”  
  
“…alright,” she sighed. “But don’t judge me for what I’m going to say. I stopped at a town far to the east, at the edge of the desert… I was told there was an underground pokemon battling arena there. I was still in a dark place from losing my mother, so some part of the brutal battles appealed to me… I made my way to the arena. One of the criminals was there, and he used a pokemon, and… I saw it.”  
  
She glanced up, her eyes filled with resolution. “Mister mayor, I saw it as clearly as I see you sitting in that chair. There was a—a cloud of darkness surrounding the pokemon. Just looking at that cloud made me feel sick; it was like something had compressed pain, negativity, and self-hate into a cloak around that poor pokemon. The cloud _was_ the pokemon. Does that make sense? I don’t know how I knew this, but just looking at it, I could tell.” Her voice took on an urgent, fierce quality. “And then in the battle itself, it behaved with almost unprecedented savagery… even the spectators at the arena were shocked. It even tried to attack the opposing trainer. I may have raised a ruckus about seeing the darkness; I realized too late that I was the only one who could see it. Later that evening, in a nearby alley, the two men jumped me, muttering about me ‘seeing too much.’ So that’s why.”  
  
Es Cade steepled his fingers together and leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Rui’s face. When he spoke, it was with the air of a man choosing each word carefully. “So. You’re a psychic, then?”  
  
All color flushed from Rui’s face. “What—why does everyone—how _dare—_ ”  
  
Es Cade again effortlessly quieted her by raising a dismissive hand. “You claim to have seen this pokemon’s emotions. No one else could. That sounds like Aura—a psychic power.”  
  
“I’m not—it was the first—”  
  
“So you’re not an Aura-user then?” Es Cade asked. “You can’t sense it?”  
  
“I’m not a psychic!”  
  
“Then I can only assume you were hallucinating,” Es Cade said. “This illicit ring—were there certain… substances there?”  
  
Rui’s lips pursed in anger. “If there were, I wasn’t using any.”  
  
Es Cade gave her the smile of a benevolent patrician who saw through the lies of children. “Of course you weren’t. Then perhaps the atmosphere simply became too much for you—or jet lag, perhaps, since you came so long from Kanto.”  
  
“This isn’t a game. I’m not making this up! If I didn’t see anything, then why would they kidnap me, then? And why was their pokemon going after people?”  
  
“I would expect that your outburst simply drew their attention. They probably immediately pegged you as a tourist or newcomer, someone not likely to be missed… as for the pokemon,” he said, smiling without mirth, “this isn’t your home region, young lady. This is Orre. People get attacked here all the time.” He leaned back with a sigh. “Of course, regardless of what you may or may not have imbibed in that arena, Miss Matsuhara, I have no interest in persecuting a young woman who just went through a trying ordeal… I have no more to ask. Thank you for your time.”  
  
Rui stood, nodded stiffly, and walked out. Wes rose to follow her, but a sharp word from the mayor held him:  
  
“Wait.”  
  
Wes stood there, folding his arms, waiting for the mayor to break the silence. The old man studied him for a moment. “Do I know you from somewhere?”  
  
A low drumbeat of panic started up inside Wes’s chest. _Not now. Not when I’m so close._ “I would be surprised, sir.”  
  
“Hmm. You sure? I could swear that your face… Do you work in town?”  
  
Wes managed to avoid licking his lips. He was grateful—actually grateful—for Rui smashing his face in yesterday. With his nose swollen and bandaged like that, it would be harder to identify him.  
  
“I’m a drifter. I travel Orre doing odd jobs.”  
  
“I see.” Es Cade leaned back and gave Wes one more surveying eye. “One more thing. What’s your opinion on this Snagem business?”  
  
He suspected. He almost certainly suspected. “They’re scumbags who got what they deserved,” Wes said.  
  
“That’s rather ruthless, wouldn’t you say? Even for criminals. A lot of Snagem men died in that explosion.”  
  
“Scumbags,” Wes reiterated. “Who got what they deserved.”  
  
“Well. I guess each man’s entitled to his own opinion, isn’t he? Thank you for your time, Mr. Sands.”  
  
Wes turned without nodding and stalked out of the office. As he shut the door, the mayor’s phone buzzed and the old man picked it up, switching from Unovan to native Orresian in a heartbeat. “ _Quién es? Te dije que no me llamaras cuando estuviera en la alcaldía. Recibí tu mensaje…”_  
  
Rui was sitting outside on the steps, her head in her hands. Wes sat next to her and waited for her to start talking.  
  
“I’m not… crazy,” she said. She raised her face to his and he saw her eyes were red. “I really did see what I saw in that arena. That pokemon was vicious—and I saw that black cloud! What happened to me… Pompom was taken because of what I saw. Don’t tell me I was high or scared or—!”  
  
“I believe you,” Wes said, because he did. He’d known one or two people like her before. “But why did you insist you couldn’t see it after you said you did?”  
  
“I what?”  
  
“You perfectly described seeing a pokemon’s Aura—and then denied that you can see Aura. The mayor was a prick, but what you said was confusing.”  
  
“Aura? It’s not—I’m not psychic, though, Wes. You have to believe me.”  
  
“You’ve never done this before?” he asked.  
  
“No!”  
  
Wes was quiet for a bit. “I knew a guy who could commune with spirits,” he said after a moment. “Channeler stuff. Thing is—the first time he did it, he was twenty-four. Lost both of his legs in an off-roader accident, spent almost a week in a coma. When he came out… he could talk to ghost-type pokemon. Had weird dreams. Sometimes said he saw the spirit world. He was _twenty-four,_ Rui. Sometimes, stuff like this doesn’t wake up until life hits you in the teeth.” He waited for a second and then added, quieter, “you said your mom died?”  
  
“…dammit,” Rui said, her voice hoarse from trying to hold back tears. “Dammit all. All this, and now I’m—I’m a—” She cut herself off, voice tight with frustration.  
  
Wes made a snap decision. “Come on,” he said, standing up.  
  
“Huh? W-what?”  
  
“You know what I do when life throws me troubles?” he said.  
  
She hiccupped and then grinned at him. “Glower at it until it slinks away and doesn’t look your way again?”  
  
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Only sometimes. Come on. We’re drowning your sorrows in beer.”  
  
“I don’t drink, Wes.”  
  
He snorted. “Fine then. I’m drowning my nonexistent sorrows in beer. You and your sorrows can eat chips or something.”  
  
She hiccupped again and smiled. “Deal. But um… you’re not worried about going places with a… a p-psychic?”  
  
“This is Orre,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, that just makes you better backup.”


	3. Chapter 3

Rui had never actually been in a bar before. Kanto was relatively lax about letting youth attend such places (as was Orre, or so she heard) but she’d never had any particular desire to drink, finding the behavior of drunks to be generally uncouth and obnoxious. Add in that her mother had briefly, but devastatingly, turned to the bottle a few years back when Rui’s father had died, and she’d grown a strong distaste for such places.  
  
But for Wes’s sake, she’d put up with going there for a night—and for her sake, she suspected, he was avoiding his usual haunts. He struck her as the sort of person who frequented dives; he probably had a bar in every town in Orre, each dingier than the last. But instead, the Sunny Swanna was a reputable, if small, establishment with a crisp but pleasant interior and old photos lining the wood-paneled walls.  
  
The bartender—a man in his early thirties who looked like someone’s favorite older cousin—examined Wes’s still-swollen, bandaged nose and her borrowed canvas duster with some skepticism, but brought them their orders fast enough.  
  
Rui had finished her bowl of salty snacks and was clearly bothering the barkeep by not ordering anything other than cold water. Wes, on the other hand, was enjoying his third glass of smooth, dark, foamy liquid.  
  
“So why do they call it stout, anyway?” she asked him as he polished it off.  
  
“Dunno,” he said, swirling the remaining bit of foam around in the bottom of the glass. “Not a beer snob. Just know what I like.”  
  
Luna, who was dozing at their feet, leaned her head up. “Hey Rui, stop him before he gets a fourth, that’s when it really starts to—”  
  
But before she was finished, Wes had already raised his hand for another glass. The Umbreon shook her head and muttered darkly.  
  
When the glass had arrived and the bubbles settled, giving the drink its characteristic dark color, Wes raised his glass in salute. “To your troubles,” he said.  
  
Rui giggled and met his stout with her water glass, earning a disapproving eyebrow from the bartender. She considered sticking her tongue out at him, but decided not to indulge her juvenile side. “Our troubles,” she said in return.  
  
Wes took a long pull from the glass, set it down half-emptied, and settled back with a contemplative look in his eye.  
  
That look didn’t appeal to Rui at all. He seemed ill at-ease, as though something was worrying him. “Hey Wes,” she said, more to divert his attentions than anything, “thanks for taking me here. Really. I’ve never actually been to a bar before.”  
  
He looked at her with a small bit of surprise. “Really? They don’t have bars where you’re from?”  
  
“Nah, they do. It’s just that I never had occasion to visit, you know? And it’s Kanto, actually. Saffron City.”  
  
She waited for him to ask the obvious questions, the ones everyone asked— _if you’re Kantonian, how do you speak Unovan so well? Why do you have red hair? Why are you even in Orre?_ —but he settled back appreciatively. “That’s… pretty neat, actually. I’ve always wanted to visit Saffron City. It’s the biggest city in the world, right?”  
  
“I think we’re second, actually. Still pretty big, though.”  
  
He nodded. “Still. What I wouldn’t give to see cities that size. Phenac’s the biggest Orre has, though Pyrite is almost as big… but neither are even a tenth the size of Saffron.”  He smiled waywardly at her. “I feel like a rube next to the big-city girl.”  
  
She waved him off. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. A lot of the ‘must-sees’ are just for tourists… really, it’s just like everywhere else except rent’s a lot higher. It’s funny, though; coming to Orre I was nervous, but excited to see all these wonderful new places.”  
  
“‘Wonderful.’ Heh.” He took another pull from his glass. “I’d say our tourism board was doing its job, if we had one.” He shook his head. “I’ve always wanted to leave this stupid region, but I can never seem to manage it… it gets its hooks in you and doesn’t let go, just pulling you down and down. I don’t really have a home, you know. Was just a desert rat, skirting all over the region, mostly the eastern end… always dreaming of escape and never quite making it.” He ran a fingertip around the glass’s rim.  
  
“Maybe it’s selfish of me,” Rui said quietly, “but I’m glad you didn’t go. If you were gone, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”  
  
He stopped playing with his glass and eyed her. “Don’t make me out to be some paragon, Rui. I’m not. I was just a normal guy in the right place…”  
  
The bell over the door tinkled and everything changed. At the small sound, Luna raised one eye lazily and then sprung up, growling. Cap, who had been nosing around the bar’s edge, followed his sister’s lead.   
  
Heart suddenly hammering, Rui turned to face the newcomers. There were four of them—three scowling men, each of whom looked like a different shade on the palette of “big and ugly,” and one woman in her late twenties at the forefront—an athletic woman in cutoff jean shorts and a tight tank, with a heavily tattooed right arm and long, loose ponytail. A Magnemite hovered over her shoulder.  
  
The woman eyed Wes’s drink with a mixture of amusement and contempt. “So. Even after playing the do-gooder back in Eclo Canyon, you still don’t have the balls to get a real drink.” She turned her gaze to the bartender. “Hey boss, gimme something to show up this lightweight. Whiskey, and not the nancy shit.”  
  
The bartender took in the situation for a few seconds, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Whoever you are, I don’t want trouble here. It’s best if you l—”  
  
The woman sighed and waved the Magnemite off her shoulder. With a buzz, the pokemon discharged a pulse of magnetic power. The field make Rui’s ears ring, and brought a temporary but uncomfortable crackling sensation to her teeth; she winced. It blew out all the electronics in the bar; the radio, the TV, even the lights.  
  
The woman’s smile was tight. “There. Now nobody can do anything impulsive like calling the cops. So, boss…” She leaned right up against the bar and gave the man an impish smile. “How ‘bout that whiskey? I get pissy when I have to repeat myself. Oh, and whatever pokeball or gun you’ve got stashed under there, forget it. Unless it’s worth turning your spine into a power cable.” The Magnemite hummed menacingly; behind the sound (or overlaid—it was hard to tell), Rui heard it as a low laugh.  
  
The barkeep swallowed and grabbed a glass tumbler. The woman turned to Wes, still, still wearing her shark’s smile.  
  
“Hey Revy,” he said without emotion.  
  
“Hey big boy,” said Revy, reaching out to pinch his cheek. Luna stood on all fours, growling louder—“Back off,” Rui heard. “Or I swear…!”—and Cap’s forehead jewel gleamed.  
  
Revy shot the Umbreon a look of contempt. “Easy there, princess,” she said. “You and your brother are tough, but this is a pretty tight place—lots of room for collateral damage if moves start flying. The boss here, your trainer… even his little minx. Who knows what could happen, even if you win?”  
  
Taking a seat on the other side of Wes, Revy shot a flat look at Rui. “And speaking of, wallflower, this is between us. Don’t make a peep and never talk about this ever again and you can go home and sleep tonight without a problem.” She smirked. “Understood?”  
  
Rui swallowed and, trying to ignore the three men hemming them in, sunk as deep into Wes’s duster as she could. Despite it being the afternoon, with the lights gone, it was oppressively dark.  
  
“What are you here for,” Wes asked.  
  
“I think you know,” Revy said. “Murderer.”  
  
 _Murderer?_ Rui shot Wes a worried glance out of the corner of his eye. What had she gotten into?  
  
“That’s rich,” Wes returned, “coming from Gonzap’s chief hatchet-woman. How many people have you killed, huh?”  
  
“Nobody who didn’t have it coming from being stupid enough to cross the boss. Certainly not anyone who was _family._ ” Her feigned friendliness all but evaporated, leaving the last word all but a snarl.  
  
“You’re not my family,” Wes said quietly. He ignored her anger and took another pull of stout, finishing off the glass. “None of you are.”  
  
Revy glared at his glass before turning her gaze to the bartender, who was just beginning to pour the whiskey. “Hey shit-for-brains,” she snarled, “what’s the holdup, huh? I’m _thirsty_ over here, you know?”  
  
The hapless barkeep hurried the tumbler over, the glass clinking as his hand trembled. Revy drained the whole thing in one go and slammed it down onto the table with a growl. “Gotta admit, Wes,” she said darkly, “‘m surprised you could ever do a thing like what you did. Never woulda guessed it.”  
  
“You don’t know me,” he said softly.  
  
A wicked grin split Revy’s face. “Ohhh, Wes _baby,_ ” she said archly, “you know that’s not true. We know each other so _well…_ ” She reached out to stroke his neck with the back of her fingers, an intimate and strangely menacing gesture.  
  
Luna was snarling—and once again, Rui realized vaguely that if she focused, she could hear both the snarls _and_ the words they meant. “Back off,” Luna said. “Hand off his neck, _back off._ ”  
  
“Make a move,” the Magnemite taunted. “I dare you, go on.”  
  
“Revy’s got one extra poke ball, sis,” Cap said. “The lowlifes have one each.”  
  
“Five on two,” the Magnemite gloated.  
  
Cap grinned. “We can take ‘em no problem.”  
  
Meanwhile, Revy was glaring over Wes’s shoulder at Rui. “She’s wearing your coat,” she said. “You never let _me_ wear your coat. Makes me a little bit jealous…”  
  
“You have a point, Revy?” An edge crept into Wes’s voice as he said it.  
  
“Not really,” she said. “You know why I’m here. Payback for what you did—and taking back the machine so we can rebuild. All I wanted to know was why.”  
  
“I want to say that I hate what we became,” Wes said, “but I don’t know if that’s true. Actually… we never ‘became’ anything. We were always that way. I just woke up to it.”  
  
“‘Woke up,’ huh…” Revy drawled off. She hopped off her stool and Wes did the same. They traded gazes for a while.  
  
“You know,” Revy said with a predatory smile, “those two terrors of yours had them worried, so they gave me an extra-special pokemon for the job.” She took a step towards Wes, who backed away. Luna prowled behind him, trying to keep eyes on both Revy and the goons. Cap stood tense along the room’s edge.  
  
Revy’s smile grew fiercer. “Extra special, actually. Like nothing you’ve ever seen. Wanna meet him?”  
  
Another step from Revy. Another step back from Wes. The other woman was standing just near her shoulder, Rui realized, close enough to touch. Revy’s whole attention was on Wes. Everyone else was focused on the two of them; even the goons had relaxed their circle. _Maybe,_ Rui thought, _maybe I can make a break for it while they’re distracted._  
  
That was a possibility. Or she could do something very, very dumb instead.  
  
When it happened, Rui couldn’t believe it—it was almost like she observed it from outside her own body, watching a stranger control her arms. As Revy advanced on Wes, reaching for her second poke ball, Rui—in one fluid motion—snatched his empty glass off the bar and swung it, twisting her body on the stool to give her arm momentum. The glass smashed into the back of Revy’s head, right where the skull met the neck, with a loud _thock_. Rui had expected it to break, like in the movies, but it stayed solid—the impact sent a shiver up her arm that made her drop it. At the blow, Revy lurched forward, gurgled a mix of surprise and pain, and collapsed onto the floor.  
  
And all hell broke loose.  
  
Before his mistress had finished her collapse, the Magnemite sent a furious wave of electricity directly at Rui. She should have made some move to get out of the way, protect herself, _something,_ but she was still in shock at her own gutsiness.  
  
Luna saved her. The Umbreon jumped in front of the electricity, teeth gritting as she skidding across the bar, paws thrashing in pain. The Magnemite hummed in fury and sparked up another attack—only for a small, pinpoint beam of luminescent energy to snipe him out of the air. As he plummeted, buzzing with anger, Cap leapt directly onto him, his gem glowing. The Magnemite’s eye widened a second before Cap unleashed all his power point-blank.  
  
Flashes filled the air as the three goons unleashed their pokemon. The pokemon—a Gloom, an Elekid, and a Vigoroth—advanced the wounded Luna. With a cry, Rui pulled her off of the bar countertop, only to slump to the ground under the Umbreon’s weight; she was far heavier than Rui had expected.  
  
“Stay down!” Wes yelled at her before lunging not at the pokemon, but at their trainers. Rui saw with a start that one of the goons had drawn a heavy chain. Wes barely dodged a swing from it to smash the heel of his hand into the guy’s adam’s apple.  
  
The Elekid grunted and made to stop Wes, but the Vigorth held him back. “Our goal’s to neutralize the Eeveelutions,” she said. “One’s down, but we need to be wary of the other one.”  
  
“Aww—all three of you for me? Really? I’m flattered!” Cap trotted over to them, looking supremely at ease—as though he wasn’t in the middle of a sudden, brutal fight. The Magnemite slumped behind him, unconscious.  
  
Warily, the other three pokemon spread out. “Careful,” the Vigoroth warned. “Don’t let your guard down, but I think we can take him.”  
  
The Gloom nodded, and was then immediately punted across the room by a flash-quick burst of psychic energy.  
  
“First rule,” Cap said mischievously as the Vigoroth and Elekid both took an involuntary step back, “don’t bring Poison-types to fight the _coolest_ type. That’s me, by the way. Second rule…”  
  
A coat of psychic energy suddenly wrapped the Elekid. He rose up, arms flailing and protesting weakly, only to be spun around five or six times and tossed into a table.  
  
“Don’t bring baby pokemon to fight a superhero,” Cap said smugly. “And as for the third rule…”  
  
The Vigoroth lunged at him, claws swiping. Cap ducked underneath and smashed his skull into the bottom of her chin, sending her reeling back. “Actually, I don’t have a third rule. Um… help me find one?”  
  
A small burst of explosion from his forehead gem sent the Vigoroth tumbling. Another coat of psychic energy suspended her in the air.  
  
“Maybe it’s over behind those bottles!” Cap suggested helpfully before flinging her into the alcohol shelf behind the bar. Glass shattered and the smell of booze filled the air as the Vigoroth plummeted into the ground. She stirred, but at a flash from Cap’s jewel, the shelves themselves collapsed, burying her in wood and even more bottles.  
  
He giggled gleefully. “Did someone order one butt-kicking with a side of Captain Justice?” he asked no one in particular. “Cause that’s what you got!” Psychic light wrapped one of the few intact bottles and hovered it over to him. “A toast to my greatness!”  
  
Beneath Rui’s arm, Luna squirmed and gave her brother the stinkeye. “Cap…” she warned.  
  
He stuck his tongue out at her. “Bleh! You never let me do anything fun.”  
  
He chucked the bottle directly at the lone thug who Wes hadn’t taken down. It shattered as it hit the man’s collarbone, and the thug staggered just long enough for Wes to knock him in the solar plexus. The man dropped.  
  
Panting and looking haggard, Wes swept the establishment before nodding. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s move.”  
  
At his urging, Luna squirmed out of Rui’s grip and moved gingerly across the floor.  
  
“Thanks for saving me, Luna,” Rui said in a meek voice. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”  
  
The Umbreon shook her head. “Not that hurt,” she said. “Just paralysis, that’s all. It’ll wear off.”  
  
Relief flooded Rui. “That’s good,” she said. When she raised the likelihood of Luna’s paralysis to Wes, he exhaled roughly through his mouth.   
  
“Dammit,” he said, “I left the medicine back at Ximena’s apartment… and we can’t have her slowing us down. Sorry, Luna, I know you hate it in there, but you’ll have to go in your ball.”  
  
The Umbreon looked absolutely indignant, but she nodded brusquely and allowed herself to be recalled.  
  
“What about the bartender?” Rui said as they left.  
  
“He’ll be fine, he’s not their main target. Right now we need to worry about ourselves.”  
  
Darting out of the Silver Swanna, Wes rounded a corner and cursed, skidding to a half and pulling himself back. Rui just managed to avoid crashing into him.  
  
“What is it?” she asked, images of more violence meeting her head.  
  
“Three people—two guys and a girl. I don’t recognize them, but they look rough. I’d bet Revy brought them there to stall the cops if they showed up.” Wes kneaded his forehead with the heel of his hands. “And if I knew her, they’re not the only ones. We need to think outside the box…”  
  
His eyes drifted to a drainpipe which led up the side of a building. The roof overtop was made of stone and relatively flat. “We’ll go by roof. Come on.”  
  
Rui barely had time to protest before he was already up the pipe and on the roof. _Wow…_ she thought.  
  
“I—I’m not sure I can—ah!” Before she could protest further, a coat of psychic energy gently lifted her up and dropped her with a little fall right alongside Wes. As she got her bearings, Cap nimbly leapt from a stack of crates to the top of a dumpster to the roof, barely batting an eye.  
  
And they were off.  
  
“Keep your profile low, like you’re a soldier running from cover to cover,” Wes said as they ran. “Keep your feet as flat as possible to distribute your weight along them. That’ll help you keep balance and also muffle any sound.” He vaulted over a low rooftop fence and Rui barely managed to clear it behind him. “If I book it, or if it seems like anyone spots us, then drop all stealth and run as fast as you can. Keep close to Cap—if you start falling, he’ll catch you with his powers.”  
  
She nodded, still trying to parse what was happening.  
  
“I can’t believe they found me,” Wes was muttering to himself. “Of course they’d be after me, but they found me so _fast_. How’d they know where I am?”  
  
Their journey across the rooftops was less trying than Rui would have expected, though Cap had to help her out a few times. There were others up there—sunbathers, gangs of children who scattered when they approached, a few bird and bug pokemon who eyed them warily.  
  
Rui’s lungs burned by the time they made it back to the area where Ximena’s apartment was, but she’d managed to keep pace without falling behind or asking Wes to slow down. Though he’d said nothing to her about it, she got the sense he was surprised and quietly proud that she’d kept up.  
  
“I can see Ximena’s apartment,” Rui said. “Let’s get down there, get inside, and call the police.”  
  
“Hold up,” Wes said, putting an arm in front of her as she made to move. “See that couple in front?”  
  
Rui narrowed her eyes. There were tourists gawking a little down the road from the apartment, snapping photos of the water glittering down the nearby aqueduct. “Yeah, what about them?”  
  
Wes shook his head. “I recognize them. They’re with Revy.”  
  
Fear gripped her heart. “Oh.”  
  
“And that guy at the bus stop,” Wes said, pointing a little further. “Him too.”  
  
“So what?” Cap said behind them. “I’ll stomp them all.” As if to prove his point, his gem began gleaming with energy.  
  
The light caught Wes’s eye. “Stop that,” he lectured. “Cap, those are just the three we’ve seen. There might be others. If Luna wasn’t benched…” He shook his head. “But she can’t cover your back while she’s paralyzed.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Rui said. “She’s only hurt because of me…”  
  
Wes barked out a laugh. “Considering you took Revy out of the picture immediately, let’s call it square. No, I have a different idea. We’re going to have to leave.”  
  
Rui’s eyes almost bugged from her head. “L-Leave? You mean… leave _town?_ ”  
  
“Yeah. I know a place where we can go. Unless…” He looked at her. “You want to stay here? You can, you know. It’s me they’re after. Revy might nurse a grudge from you for knocking her out, but if you lay low for a bit you should be alright.” His brows narrowed in thought. “There’s no reason for you to stick your neck out for me. After I leave, you keep a low profile with Ximena’s help.” He nodded to himself. “Okay. After I draw them off, make a break for—”  
  
“Wait,” Rui cut in. She swallowed. “I… I do want to come. Bring me with you.” Silence for a moment. Another one. Then Wes nodded. “Alright.”  
  
Rui nodded back. Though she hadn’t known him for long, she wanted to make sure that Wes was okay—he was the reason she was out of that trunk, after all. _And besides,_ another part of her whispered, _this might be connected._ Revy had said something about a ‘special pokemon’ that would help her defeat Wes. Could that be the same as the shadowy pokemon she’d seen before?  
  
“We need a distraction,” Wes said. “Once they’re gone, we can hop in my bike and head off. Cap?”  
  
The Espeon smirked and slunk off. In a few minutes, a multicolored light show erupted from a distant alley. With a shout, the tourist couple and the man at the bus stop, along with a few others, raced to meet it.  
  
“Let’s go,” Wes said. He shimmied down another drainpipe and caught Rui when she slipped trying to emulate him. As he prepped his bike, Rui scribbled a hasty note on a loose page from her notebook and wedged it under Ximena’s door.  
  
There were tense minutes in which Rui wondered if the strangers might return, and then Cap burst out of another alley. Quick as a flash, Wes recalled him. “Get in the sidecar!” he commanded. “Here’s the helmet!”  
  
She threw it on, strapped herself, and then his bike roared—and they were gone.  
  
\---  
  
They traveled for hours, continuing long after the sun had set. The desert air was not just cool in the night, it was almost frigid. Rui had to grudgingly marvel at just how swiftly Orre turned from unreasonably hot to unconscionably cold. It was as if the region was determined to rub life out of itself as soon as possible.  
  
They arrived at Wes’s chosen destination—a run-down gas station/diner hybrid far to the east. The neon sign read ‘Outskirt Stand.’ He parked his bike behind the building, covered it with a nearby tarp, and knocked a drumbeat pattern on the back door.  
  
It cracked open—a suspicious eye peered out at them.  
  
“It’s me,” Wes said. “I’m here to see Thoreau.”  
  
The door swung open revealing a diminutive, no-nonsense woman wearing a grease-stained apron. “Well, get in then,” she said. They rushed inside. She ushered them down into a cellar, the entrance of which was hidden under big-looking boxes which weren’t as heavy as they looked. “I’ll send him to you.”  
  
Inside the cellar were a few cots and blankets and several spartan cupboards and lockers. A single, buzzing bulb dangling from the ceiling gave the room light.  
  
As they waited for Thoreau, Wes released his two pokemon and tended to them. Neither seemed surprised at their surroundings—so they were familiar with this place, then.  
  
Thoreau didn’t keep them waiting long. He was a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man with a close-kept beard and dreads pulled behind his head. He met Wes in a tremendous bear hug.  When they parted, he eyed Wes’s nose with humor. “Well well,” he said, his voice a pleasant rumble, “who messed you up?”  
  
“She did,” Wes said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at Rui. “Accident. Don’t worry, she’s a friend. Kinda new to all this, though.”  
  
Thoreau nodded once. “Well, sorry this damn idiot dragged you into his mess. How long you need to hide low?”  
  
“We’ll be gone by tomorrow evening. Morning after, the latest.”  
  
“Right. I’ll send my ma down in the morning to feed you.”  
  
As he turned, Wes caught his arm. “Hold on, Thoreau. They found me in Phenac almost immediately. They had a lot of people looking for me, too. They might be coming here.”  
  
“Mm.” Thoreau strode over to one of the cabinets and, from inside, pulled out an old-fashioned hunting shotgun. Rui gulped (guns in general were a big no-no in Kanto and most other regions—but then Orre, with extremely scarce wild pokemon, was significantly limited in how people could defend themselves) as he chambered shells and tossed a few more in his pocket. “Just in case,” he said, leaning it against his shoulder. His eyes caught Rui’s face and he softened. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said in a surprisingly smooth tone. “This is just to protect you, okay?”  
  
Once he was gone, Wes pulled out a first aid kit from one of the lockers and set about changing the dressings on his nose. As he did so, Rui sat on one of the cots and tried to process her shock.  
  
“What… what’s happening?” she said. “What is this place? Who _were_ those people, Wes?”  
  
He turned, grimacing behind his new bandages and gauze. “I… Rui, I’m really sorry. I should have left you with Ximena yesterday rather than stay… I’ve put you in even greater danger.” He pulled over another chair with a sigh. “I don’t know how much I should tell you.”  
  
“Don’t keep me ignorant,” she said. “I was kept prisoner in a car trunk for almost a full day. If I’m getting mixed up in criminals, I want to defend myself—and knowledge is power.”  
  
Wes sighed, and nodded. “You know that news report you saw this morning? The Brotherhood—Team Snagem? Their base?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“That…” He paused, swallowed, and his voice grew heavy. “That was me.”  
  
The news hit her like a falling beam. “What…? What are you saying, Wes?”  
  
“I blew up that base. I rigged it to blow from the inside. I… I killed them, Rui.”  
  
Silence reigned in the cellar for a long while. Cap’s eyes darted back and forth between the two humans, open worry on his face. Luna simply watched, her face a mask.  
  
When Rui finally spoke, she said, “the news said they suspected an inside job…”  
  
Wes deflated even more. “Yeah. I am… was… a member of the Brotherhood. Their top Snagger. Been doing it for years.”  
  
“And Thoreau…”  
  
“Their man in this part of Orre. He’d move Snagged pokemon for them. But he got sick of the parade of frightened, empty-eyed creatures moving in and out of his place, just like I got sick of pretending that hurting people for a living was okay…”  
  
“Wes…” It didn’t fit. How? _How_ could this be real? He’d seemed like a nice guy—a great person! “I just don’t understand… how could you ever join up with them?”  
  
“They gave me what I needed,” he said in a soft voice. “I was a lonely kid with no parents, vulnerable on the streets, and they gave me a roof over my head and people who cared about me. They even let me bring my Eevee. They were my family.”  
  
He sighed. “Until they weren’t. Until I realized just how much they were hurting people… how they didn’t care to stop hurting people. How much of their goodwill I was losing just by voicing a concern here or there. But what could I do?”  
  
“Certainly not blow them up!” Rui exclaimed. “Why didn’t you go to the police, or—”  
  
“This isn’t _Kanto,_ Rui!” he said, his voice raw. He looked at her, his eyes red with unshed tears. “Options like that don’t _exist!_ The Brotherhood basically ran all of eastern Orre. They were making a big deal with Miror B, the boss of Pyrite Town, which would let them trade influence out there, too. I had to stop them!” He sighed. “So I found Thoreau, and others within and around the organization who were getting sick of it all. They were all like me—trapped, but feeling too oppressed to do anything about it. But together, we were less paralyzed. We came up with a plan—when all of the bosses and top Snaggers would be in the Eclo Canyon base, bringing all the Snag Machines with them, I would steal a lone Snag Machine and blow up the base. Then I’d lie low here with Thoreau for a few days while the others in on our plan fed misdirection to the survivors to keep them off our tail.”  
  
“Cutting the head off the proverbial snake,” Rui said with a mixture of awe and horror. “But Wes, you—you killed dozens of people!”  
  
“I know that!” he said, suddenly shouting. The tears finally broke free but he didn’t bother wiping them. “I know, but… I was out of options! I couldn’t see any other way to bring down the Brotherhood before they united with Miror B. They ran the East, and he was the biggest crime lord in the West… if they united, Orre itself could be at risk. They could even start shipping Snag Machines to other regions! You think the Brotherhood didn’t already kill dozens on their own? By the _month?_ How much worse would they get if they clasped hands with their biggest rival? The deadline was looming and I only had one choice.”  
  
He sunk back, his passion spent. “They were monsters, Rui. And I grew up with them. And I… I decided I wasn’t going to be a monster anymore. So I committed the most monstrous act I ever did to stop them.” He finally wiped his face. “Maybe there was another way. I guess we’ll never know. I hope I never have to find out… I don’t know if I could live with it.”  
  
Watching this stoic pillar of strength break in front of her awoke something in Rui. “Here,” she said, shouldering off the duster. “You need—”  
  
“Nah,” he said, waving her off. “That coat was… it was a gift from Gonzap, the head of the Brotherhood, after my best Snag yet. Now it seems dirty to wear it.”  
  
Rui nodded and shrugged the duster back on, letting him regain composure. When he calmed, she asked him, “What were your plans after? Surely you didn’t want to run for you whole life. And why steal a Snag Machine?”  
  
Wes sighed. “The goal was to go to the western shore, to Professor Krane near Gateon. He’s the region’s premier researcher, though he’s not as famous as Oak or the Junipers. I was going to give him the Snag Machine, hope he could figure out how it worked, maybe send it to Devon or Silph so they could make poke balls resistant to its abilities. And in exchange, I hoped he could use his connections to finally get me out of this cage of a region…”  
  
He shook his head. “But the very first day I left the stand I let myself get sedate in Phenac, and the day after they found me.”  
  
“I’m—”  
  
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Wes said. “I chose to stay there, and besides, I probably would have found some reason not to make it to Krane anyway. I’m afraid… he’ll just take the machine and have me thrown in prison. Take my pokemon away.”  
  
Cap nuzzled close to him and Wes looked down with a wry smile, running his hand through his fur. “Anyway, I don’t expect you to spend your life running with me. I can get you to wherever it is you’re going once things die down. If you still want to, that is.”  
  
Did she want to? Wes had killed people. Criminals, sure; murderers, thieves, extortionists. But he had blood on his hands.  
  
But he’d saved her from the trunk.  
  
“…I’ll stay,” she said.  
  
He smiled at her. “Thanks. I mean it.”  
  
That evening, when both of them were resting on cots on the opposite side of the room, Wes’s snores filled the air—but Rui couldn’t find the will to relax and drift off. And then, in the darkness, silent paws padded towards her.  
  
“He’s not a bad person,” Luna said. “He grappled with a long, long time before he made that choice. I hope you can accept that.”  
  
“It just seems so… ruthless,” said Rui.  
  
“It was. But someone had to be.” Luna fell quiet for a moment. “When he was a Snagger… we helped, you know. My brother and me. Cap was too young to really get what we were doing, but me… Before Wes took us in, we were strays who barely managed to stay alive, so I thought it as just payback for those fatcat trained pokemon who had everything. But I came to regret it. Can we actually rise from what we’ve done?”  
  
She padded away, leaving the question hanging in the air. It did not strike Rui as one that Luna expected to be answered.


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the child.

He comes from nowhere, from nothing. He cannot remember a mother or father. He was raised by the dirt, nurtured by the “tender” hands of those who chose not to see him, dirty and alone in dark and trash-filled alleys.

The child is afraid. He is afraid because he has, against all odds, grown big enough and old enough that the bigger children see him as a threat. He is afraid because when the bigger children move against him he cannot hope to defeat them. He is afraid because he wants to leave, but there is nothing that surrounds the city and its precious water but miles and miles of barren desert: harsh winds and dry rocks.

The child wants to be brave. He wants to be brave by heading to the nice part of town and making a living there. He knows that the other boys, even the rough ones, stay away from that area; yet the boy does not know why, for the people there are fat and content. Their wallets poke carelessly out of pockets, and change jingles as they walk. These are the perfect people to help an urchin get by, the child thinks. No one will ever know, and with money, he can finally leave.

You wish to tell the child to stop as he makes the odyssey across town, arriving in the shining plaza of smooth, polished stone and cascading water. Banks and shops dot the fringes of the open space. You wish to tell him not to eye the people crossing the plaza with such obvious hunger. You wish to warn him of the officer leaning against a wall with practiced nonchalance, a man who smells trouble like a predator smells a wounded straggler.

But of course, the child could never hear you.

Here is the child as he hunts down a target. You see him as he observes and dismisses potential targets. That woman, too old—what if she needs the money for medicine? That man, too big. A swing from him, even not done to hurt, could break bones. That pampered young child potentially nimble enough to catch up to a fleeing thief. And never anyone with poke balls on their belt.

Finally the child finds his perfect target. She is dumpy and getting along in years, though not truly elderly. She can afford to lose some money. She is of the right gender (so the child thinks) and the right age to be sympathetic to a small, dirty, hungry boy should he get caught—and of the right build, lumpy and soft, to easily outrun should she not be sympathetic.

Here is the child as he steals out of the alley, sure he is not seen. You want to tell him to look more carefully, to see the man against the wall. But the child does not know what to look for. He ghosts behind the woman, slinks one grubby hand in her purse, withdraws a wallet fat with cash, and pockets it all in one smooth motion. Then he hurries ahead past her, as though catching up with someone. The woman clucks her head and briefly covers her nose as the child passes, but that is all. She never looks, she never suspects. The child turns into a side street and vanishes from her mind forever.

The child cannot believe his good fortune. There is so much money! He almost does not dare to count it with his grubby fingers. The child cannot help but gloat at the foolish other children, who steer away from such a cornucopia. He decides to lay low for an hour or two and find a new target in the plaza. A day or two like this and he can finally escape beyond the sand and make a new life.

Here is the shadow that falls over the child.

To you or I, the man casting the shadow would not seem that old. Mid-twenties, maybe even younger. He would not seem that big, either, with average height and musculature. This is not a big, important officer. This is someone on the bottom rung, forgotten, ignored, with no future. That is what we would see.

The child sees a titan. A great towering behemoth with a scowl of stone. The child considers running but discards the idea. This man knows the terrain better. The child is alone, with no other urchins to distract him. He is caught.

The child surrenders the wallet unprompted and babbles out an apology. He does not finish before the man’s boot takes him in the chin.

You want to turn away.

The child tastes blood and whimpers, trying to crawl away. The man steps on the child’s hand, holding him there with the pressure. The man is saying things. He tells the child that rats like him are a disease. That Phenac is the one jewel in all of Orre, that it cannot be despoiled by filth. The man removes his foot from the child’s hand and rears it up, kicking the child in the side. The force sends him tumbling. The child cringes as the man grabs a can of refuse and overturns it, dowsing the child in its contents. This isn’t as bad as the kicks, the child thinks. Trash is something he is used to.

The man holds the empty metal container for a few seconds as if considering bringing it down on the child, but he tosses it aside. He pulls back his coat, revealing the poke ball at his waist, and tells the child that if he ever sees him again, his Houndour will not be as gentle to the boy as he himself was. Then the man bends over, picks up the wallet, removes the money, and throws the rest of it into the trash. He turns and leaves, pocketing the cash.

It’s a few minutes before the boy can bring himself to move. There aren’t many people on the small side street and the few that pass do so on the other side of the road, pointedly not looking at the child. Eventually the child is able to rise to a lurching half-stand, despite the lancing agony in his side, and limps off, clutching his ribs.

You wish you could help the child. Take him to a doctor to get his ribs looked at. Give him a warm bed with clean sheets. Even just pat him on the head and tell him everything will be all right. But you can’t. The child has no one. He is no one. And that, more than anything, is the lesson he learned today.

The child finds a quiet alley and stays there for a day. And then another day. And a day after that. He can barely move but for the pain, but more than that, the child is ruled by fear. Fear of what the other children will do to him if they smell weakness. Fear of the looming officer, and the pain he deals. The child has eaten everything edible within arm’s reach (most of it garbage) and you want to tell him that he has to eat, that he can’t afford not to. He needs help.

And then, one morning, he gets it.

The boy wakes up, in that same quiet alley, to find two bundles of warmth near him. They are both small lumps of brown fur, both tiny and malnourished. One curls in his lap, the other at his side; they are male and female, the former younger and slightly smaller than the latter.

This is what it looks like when the boy sees pokemon up-close for the first time. He is taken by their soft fur, their long ears, their tiny claws. He feels a storm surge of love and affection towards them. He doesn’t know to call these newcomers “Eevee,” or why they are there with him. But when the one in his lap shuffles and yawns, he finds his hands petting it, and the Eevee reciprocates with a low purr.

The boy and the Eevee settle into a routine. One of the Eevee fetches food while the other stays with the boy. The Eevee that runs for food often comes back chased by other small pokemon, but the chasers trail away and hide when they see the boy. They split the food, the Eevee offering nourishment, the boy offering protection. Soon enough the pain in his side fades to a dull ache, and his strength returns—and the boy can walk again.

The other children, once so tough, melt away in fear at the child with two Eevee, for they know that tiny fangs can still pierce skin and find arteries. The Eevee are his, truly—the boy having returned to the loose brick where he hides his treasures as soon as he can walk again. Amidst the baubles and coins and feathers are two battered, dusty, chipped poke balls he once scrounged from the trash. He offered to them almost fearfully, and they accepted.

This is youth when it is filled with vigor and determination. The boy devises a new way to feed three mouths. He performs with the Eevee on street corners, doing tricks and gambols for coins. The male is much better at this than the female, who skulks half-heartedly and growls at anyone who tries to pet her, and eventually the male alone is the one who performs, while the female keeps an eye out for trouble. Whenever any officer or gang of street toughs looks like they might be coming near, she barks and the three vanish like the night before dawn.

The boy grows brave enough to visit richer parts of the city, though he never returns to the plaza. He gets some odd stares here and there, but as he (and you) know, simply owning pokemon is itself a major status symbol in as blighted a place as Orre; so long as the Eevee accompany him, he is tolerated in places where he might have once been shunned. Enough coins from these places earn him showers and better clothes—not nice, not new, but certainly better than the rags he was used to—and soon enough he is no longer an urchin.

This is the corner where he performs. See the sun rise to its zenith; see the people melt away under the heat. See the shop across the street, with its rows of televisions; see how at this time of day, when there is no one to perform for, the screens always show the same thing. See the silly cartoon superhero. See the boy taken by the idea that such justice could exist in the world, see the male Eevee fascinated by the sounds and colors. See the boy name the Eevee for his favorite hero, see the female sulk for going nameless, see the boy observe her longing gaze at the night sky, see him give her, too, a name.

See the moment when the boy gains a name of his own. Here is the shopkeeper’s son, an arrogant man who is tired of helping a withered old man sell junk. See him leave one day after a fight with his father. He does not come back. You might want to tell the boy to visit the shopkeeper, but there is no need—he picks up on the help the old man needs after seeing him struggle with a heavy box. The old man appreciates the boy’s help and admires the two handsome Eevee, and admits that he likes seeing the boy perform across the street. He offers the boy part-time work and the boy takes it. When the old man asks for a name, the boy—who has only ever been the boy—decides on Wes, from the west where he hopes to someday venture, and Sands, for the barrier that seems always to cage him in.

The old man lets Wes help him move boxes and unpack, and sleep in the unused storage room when he learns Wes has no home. Wes tells him of his dream and the old man helps him save money to someday visit a place that is not Orre.

But Wes, you wish you could say, nothing good can last forever.

The old man is old, after all, and less than a year from his son storming out, his health gives and he dies almost overnight. It’s barely a few days more when the son, returning to claim his father’s property, finds Wes in the storage closet. Squatter, he calls him, and thief, and manipulator of an innocent old man. With help from the law, the son has Wes thrown out, and everything in the storage closet—all the money, all the trinkets—are deemed property of the store and given to the son. And when Wes tries to protest, one of the officers—a man who does not seem quite so big, anymore—recognizes the adolescent as a known pickpocket and a thief. I told you to get out of town, he growls, and sends out his Houndour.

Here are the two Eevee who intercept the dog before it can reach Wes, and who send it away whimpering with scratches and cuts. And for a glorious moment, Wes feels triumphant.

But you cannot hurt the pokemon of an officer and get away with it. They chase him, and though he escapes, now all of them know his face. Here is Wes is trapped once more, unable to move in any street, at any time, without fear that someone will recognize him and come for him. He prays for salvation.

Be careful, you might tell him, for the things you ask.

Salvation comes in the form of an older kid with a lean smile. The kid says that he heard about Wes being a good battler, that he knows that Wes is on the run from the cops for nothing more than pickpocketing and defending himself. There is a place, the kid tells him, where people don’t need to live in fear. A place where people sit down in brotherhood and look out for each other. And he can take Wes there.

Scream all you like at Wes. Tell him how the Brotherhood will lure him in, how they will use him, prey on his indignation and his sense of injustice. Tell him how much they hurt and exploit people, how readily they turn on and discard their own. The abuses they inflict on pokemon, the misery they foment across the region. Shout it at him; he cannot hear you. He can only see the door, distant and chained shut all his life, finally beginning to open.

Will he have to earn his keep, he asks. Naturally, comes the reply, but it’s all fair, and it’s work he will enjoy. What about his pokemon? Can they be fed too? Of course—provided Wes is willing to work hard enough to cover for them.

Wes thinks back to himself in that alley, when he woke to find himself not alone for the first time. He will never leave them. He swears to work.

Wes leaves Phenac for the first time, experiencing the dark and dusty towns and pit stops of eastern Orre. He likes these places. They are honest; they have character. Eventually, in Eclo Canyon, he is brought to a sprawling building of scrap metal. In this place, he is welcomed like an old friend—no, not even like that. Like a brother. The people here listen to him, look after him, take care of him, feed him. They admire his sleight-of-hand, practiced on the streets, and his swiftness. They admire the natural ferocity and tenacity of his Eevee, and teach him how to channel that natural talent into something more focused through proper battling strategy. Both Wes and his pokemon are naturals, and are soon admired. The pokemon aren’t the only ones who learn how to fight—Wes, too, hones the edge he picked up living on his own, and the older he gets, the more dangerous he becomes.

Cap, exuberant and excited to grow, evolves almost instantly after arriving. Luna takes a little while, but she, too, eventually changes—at night, of course. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wes is proud to guard Eclo Canyon with his pokemon, or earn money in street battles in the web of towns in eastern Orre, but soon enough, the head of the Brotherhood, Gonzap, asks to speak to him. There is a job, he says, that Wes will probably enjoy. A way to strike back at the people who have hurt him. He pulls out a case, opens it to display a machine that locks over the arm like black armor.

When Wes hears the job, it feels like justice to him. He fawns over the machine, not seeing (as you might) the tight, almost predatory smile that plays around Gonzap’s lips.

And here is where the story reaches a place you know.


	5. Chapter 5

How could he be so stupid?  
  
Wes grunted and splashed water on his face. There was a single, rather dingy sink in the small bathroom off Thoreau’s cellar. He sighed and looked at his face in the dirty mirror.  
  
The man who looked back was tired, and he did not look ‘rough’ so much as haggard. Wes tried to tell himself that didn’t bother him. He only partially succeeded. Rui had seen him vulnerable. Arceus above, but she’d seen him _crying._ That was—  
  
He shook his head. “No,” he told himself. “It’s okay. You’re not on the streets anymore, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s not a predator. Don’t get mad. It’s okay.”  
  
He breathed heavily and slowly for a few seconds. The tension in his chest only partially faded. Wes could command himself all he wanted; these were behaviors he’d learned in alleys and on streets, and it would be hard—very, very hard—to fully unlearn them.  
  
He waited a bit longer for it to die down more. It wasn’t fully gone, but it was enough. He stepped out of the bathroom.  
  
Rui was looking distinctly uncomfortable in her new getup. For more maneuverability, she’d ditched her skirt and cardigan for more utilitarian clothes. The black cargo pants she wore—a mirror to his own—would be much better suited to scrambling through alleys or across desert sands, and her tee was barely visible beneath her canvas duster.  
  
He almost blinked. _Her_ canvas duster. Had he given it up so easily? He chided himself again. No. That sort of possessiveness was stupid.  
  
“Thoreau come down while I was in there? Thought I heard someone,” he asked.  
  
She nodded. “Yeah, he asked how we were doing. Wanted to make sure Luna was recovered from the paralysis.” At her name, the Umbreon yawned in the corner and stood up, stretching. “He says we’re welcome to come up, if we want.”  
  
He considered it. “Well, there’s always the chance of being spotted… but what the hell, I’m sick of this cellar. Who wants food?”  
  
Cap bounded up, yipping excitedly, and Wes grinned, burying his hand in the fur atop Cap’s head. Arceus above, but it was tough to stay depressed around the little guy.  
  
Thoreau’s diner was run-down but warm, with a jukebox that only worked half the time and a smell of crispy hashbrowns that never fully went away. Wes loved it.  
  
Thoreau brought Wes his favorite (poached eggs on toast, lightly peppered) and asked Rui what she wanted. When she meekly replied she would be fine with juice, the big man guffawed and said “one meaty omelet with toast, coming right up.”  
  
“You’ll like it,” Wes said, smiling at her consternation. “His mom does all the cooking and she’s a wiz. Best diner fare in Orre.”  
  
“That sounds like a particularly low bar to clear,” she fired back.  
  
“Even so.”  
  
Thoreau brought them their food and they began chowing down. As Wes suspected, once Rui picked at her omelet, she started shoveling it in—Mama T really know what she was doing.  
  
When they were done, she leaned back in the diner booth, a pensive look on her face.  
  
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.  
  
“A lot of stuff,” she said. “My life was never interesting, and then overnight, all this crazy stuff starts happening. I find out I’m… p-psychic, for one thing.”  
  
That’s right. Amidst the mania of Revy and her crew showing up yesterday, Wes had almost forgotten Rui’s self-realization. “There are worse things to be,” he said softly.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I think it’s kinda cool. You can see aura and everything. What a great ability! People in Orre, we don’t look at psychics as freaks or dangers like other regions do. We see those powers as assets—a way for you to stand up for yourself and your friends.”  
  
She smiled at him and sipped her juice. “You’re a nice guy, Wes.” And then her smile grew wan. “Which is… I mean…”  
  
His stomach grew cold. He knew what she was referring to. “What we talked about last night?” he said softly.  
  
“Yeah. It’s just… hard to wrap my head around it. I know they were bad, but to do what you did…”  
  
He leaned back. How to explain it to her? “You know those guys who took you?” he said. She paled but nodded. “Well, imagine you knew for a fact that they did that sort of thing all the time. With predictable results. You knew exactly where they were going to be, but it didn’t matter. The police, the authorities, they wouldn’t move against them.” He traced a finger around the rim of his coffee mug. “Everyone was paid off or afraid. And they just kept taking girls, time and again, and there was no end in sight. But you knew where they were gonna be. Wouldn’t you feel tempted to _do_ something?”  
  
“…maybe,” Rui muttered, looking off to the side. “I don’t—I don’t know. Maybe. I just…”  
  
Wes nodded. “I get you. It’s hard—it should be. Arceus knows it was hard for me.” He grabbed a slide of toast and bit into it with a crunch. “After it happened, and I was hiding in this place, Thoreau came down to check on me… man, I was sobbing and shaking.” He swallowed. It was hard to remember, and harder to share. “I had already been sick; I felt I was gonna be sick again. I was aghast at what I’d done. Thoreau, he calmed me down, and he told me something. ‘You think those guys were innocent?’ I knew they weren’t. ‘You ever hear, _what goes around comes around?’_ I said I had. Well, he just looked me dead in the eyes, and he said, ‘Sometimes, Wes, you _are_ what comes around.’”  
  
Rui drew the mantle of the duster tight around herself. “That’s… scary.”  
  
“Yeah.” Wes polished off his toast. “I don’t know if I could do it again. I hope I’m never tested, and I sure hope you don’t have to go through anything like that. But what he said… it was enough. For now.”  
  
Silence wound around them as customers filtered in and out of the diner, gradually winnowing out. Thoreau took their plates and kept their drinks refilled, but neither of them said anything. The sun had climbed high before Rui finally broke the spell.  
  
“There’s… something I’m not telling you, Wes,” she said. He raised an eyebrow but elected to let her move into it, and took a pull of more coffee.  
  
She sighed. “The aura thing… that’s not all I do. When your pokemon, and other pokemon, talk, I… I can u-understand what they’re saying. I hear them.”  
  
Wes had chosen exactly the wrong moment to drink coffee. His plan was to set the cup down, process whatever information Rui would tell him, and proceed smoothly. Instead he sputtered, spraying it all over the table like a slob.  
  
“I, uh…” he said lamely, setting the cup down and trying to play off what had just happened, even though he absolutely knew it was impossible, “I, uh… oh.”  
  
Rui smirked and grabbed some napkins and started wiping the table clean.  
  
“…sorry,” he muttered, and helped. “Rui,” he said when they were finished, “that’s _incredible._ Any psychic power is rare enough, but two? The chances have got to be—I don’t know the exact numbers, but in the tens, maybe even hundreds of thousands. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Guess my mind’s still back in Kanto,” she said. “I’d be treated like a weirdo there for sure.”  
  
“Man, screw Kanto,” Wes said off-handedly, and then winced. “I mean… I’m sure your home region is a nice place—”  
  
She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. But you believe me?”  
  
“Course I do,” Wes said. “Don’t see a reason for you to lie, and besides, the way you talk to pokemon is… different from the way most people do.”  
  
“Different how?” she asked.  
  
“I dunno, just different,” he said. “I couldn’t put my finger on it. You just treated them different when you interacted with them.”  
  
“Well darn,” she said coyly, “and I had the perfect proof ready to go.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah. Cap told me he’s actually named after his favorite superhero… and yours.”  
  
Wes gagged a bit. Again! Why was she always doing this when he drank! He managed to keep the water inside his esophagus this time, though.  
  
“So, big bad Snagger,” she teased, “wanna tell me all about that?”  
  
“…was young,” Wes muttered. “Liked the show.”  
  
“Mhmmmm.” She hummed with amusement. “Oh, and let’s not forget Luna. You named the pokemon that evolves at night… and in moonlight… after the moon.”  
  
“…look.”  
  
“No, it’s fine.”  
  
“Listen to me.”  
  
“We all have different talents,” she said. “Some people are good at defecting from criminal gangs, and others are good at naming things.”  
  
\---  
  
The Snag Machine—there was something relatively simplistic about it, Rui thought, and yet somehow ominous.  
  
It looked simple enough—a dark metal pauldron with orange rims that slipped over the shoulder, a matching mantle around the wrist that sloped over the hand like a tear-drop, and connecters between the two that mirrored folds of armor. And yet it allowed the user to steal pokemon from trainers—severing the bond to their poke balls forever, rendering them at the mercy of whatever criminal stole them away.  
  
After discussion with Thoreau, Wes decided that it was best if he strapped it on. The Brotherhood was after him, and had found him easily enough yesterday—wearing it wouldn’t be much of a giveaway if they could find him that soon. And there was no better place, Thoreau had argued, for Wes to keep an eye on it than there.  
  
They’d made their plans. Her ultimate goal was to head to Agate in the northwest; Wes was to go a bit farther than that, to Gateon. Both places were in the tiny smattering of green at the farthest edge of Orre, spots supposedly night and day compared to the desert around here.  
  
“We’ll have to make stops all across the region,” he’d told her, charting their way on a creased map. “Make stops at oases and small towns. I’ve got a network, other people who turned on the Brotherhood…”  
  
Now he was chatting up Thoreau inside the diner, the machine snug on his arm. Rui watched from outside, idly scratching Cap as his head rested in her lap.  
  
“Hey Rui,” Luna intoned from nearby, “did you really mean what you said about my name earlier?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“You made fun of Wes for picking it. Is it a bad name?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I was just needling your trainer, Luna, don’t worry. I think yours is a fine name.”  
  
“Alright, good.” She rested her head on her paws. “At least I’m not named after a guy in purple spandex.”  
  
Cap’s tail shifted from light twitching to thrashing, and Rui giggled. “Are you really so easy to tease, Cap?”  
  
“A hero lets no one impugn his honor,” Cap replied grandiosely. “But I’ll let her get away with it… just this time.”  
  
“I’m surprised either of you care,” Rui said with a smile, “considering that your uncle was named _Orange_ of all things.”  
  
Luna chuffed and buried her head in her paws even further, but Cap lit up. “Oh, he’s the best! Wanna hear more about him? This one time, he fought off this great big—”  
  
But Rui stopped listening. A vehicle had pulled up to the diner, and stepping out of it…  
  
Her mouth went dry. It couldn’t be. No. _No.  
_  
They emerged, as fresh in in the light as they were in the dark places in her soul. Both blond, both short but muscular. One wearing orange shades, the other with a loose beanie. Beanie nudged Shades and gestured to her, and both snickered.  
  
“Hey chickadee,” said Shades. “How’s it hangin’?”  
  
Rui tried to swallow but there was nothing. Her hands felt clammy and she realized they were trembling. She pictured herself running away, far away, but her legs felt like they couldn’t move…  
  
Weight left her lap as Cap prowled towards the two, his fangs bared in a snarl. Luna, looking similarly incensed, nudged at Rui’s back, forcing her to her feet. With Rui leaning on her for support, Luna let out a high, baleful howl—one which drew Wes from inside the diner.  
  
“Well looky here, Trudly,” said Shades. There was a wild smile on his face, and on Beanie’s face too—the sort of vicious, predatory smile the bullying nanny wore when she caught the child misbehaving. There was nothing kind or friendly about those two faces. “Here comes ol’ goody two-shoes himself.”  
  
“We were chewed out something nasty, Folly and I were,” said Beanie (Trudly?). “For letting the chickadee go free. Then the Brotherhood posts a bounty on a rogue member, and if the description of him and his companion don’t just sound familiar! So we figure—revenge? Clear our names with the boss? Get the bounty while we’re at it? Sounds like a win-win-win for us.”  
  
Wes folded his arms. Without the duster, the lean muscles on his frame stood out. “I kicked your asses once,” he said. “You really think I won’t do it a second time?”  
  
The guy with the shades—Folly?—smirked even tighter. “Yeah, y’did. Course… we didn’t have our full teams. Or our secret weapon.”  
  
With a spray of light, they released their pokemon. There was a wild-looking Whismur, a savage Ninjask, a wicked Persian, a sturdy-looking Aron… and the one that had gotten her into trouble in the first place.  
  
Her breath caught. Even now, barely looking at it, she could see tiny plumes of darkness rising off of it like steam. The Makuhita was cold-eyed and carried itself with a raw manner that suggested it was a breath away from exploding into violence. Back in the illicit battle ring where this had all began, it had brutalized its opponent into submission, and then kept hitting it—and had even gone after the opposing trainer unheeded. The other four pokemon carried themselves carefully around it.  
  
“Here’s the battle plan,” Trudly snarled. “Kill the Snagger and his pokemon for the bounty. Then take the chick.”  
  
The words were like a lance to her. No. Take her? Again? She wouldn’t go back. She _wouldn’t._ She—!  
  
The pokemon exploded into action. The Makuhita barreled right at Cap, and in response, Luna raced after him, leaving Rui to stand shakily alone. The Espeon smirked and unleashed a torrent of psychic power at his aggressor. The Makuhita took the beam and _kept going._ Cap’s face had just enough time to register astonishment before the pokemon was on him.  
  
The Makuhita pummeled him mercilessly, swinging again and again with round fists. Cap took the abuse with gritted teeth. Sure, he was resistant, but Espeon were not notorious for their sturdiness.  
  
Luna swept forward to help her brother but was harried by the Ninjask, its scythe-like arms swinging this way and that, almost too fast to move. She darted too far to the side and the tiny Aron barreled right into her. Luna was sent rolling back, grunting, as the pokemon advanced on her.  
  
The Persian and Whismur hung back. Rui had just enough time to gape before the Whismur began inhaling. Trudly and Folly both smirked and inserted small earplugs.  
  
When the Whismur screamed, it was like standing next to a speaker at a rock concert. The sound was so deafening that Rui’s ears felt they were going to explode. Wes sunk to his knees, clutching his hands about his ears. Cap and Luna both staggered, Luna whining, and even the pokemon harassing Luna took pause. The Makuhita wailed and then began pummeling Cap with even more fury. And on the diner, all of the storefront windows shattered, glass crumbling down onto the dirt.  
  
But the Persian was prepared. Once the ear-splitting cry was gone, it bolted straight at Wes, claws extended.  
  
And that’s when Thoreau leapt through the broken windows of his diner. The first shotgun blast missed, but succeeded in diverting the cat’s attention. The second took the Persian right in its shoulder mid-leap, but the cat still fell onto him, scrabbling with all his might. Thoreau was able to beat it off with the gun and it slunk away, wounded and hissing.  
  
“Go… inside,” Wes panted, forcing himself to stand. “Hide yourself.”  
  
“You think I’m just going to watch these guys attack you?”  
  
“Gun’s broke,” Wes observed. Indeed it was—the barrel was bent, probably from the clubbing it had been used for. “Even you can’t fight a pokemon on your own. Get moving.” He nodded at Rui. “Take her.”  
  
Thoreau nodded and ran to grab her. Rui’s legs felt like jelly, her ears still burned, but with his help, she was able to move away from the battle.  
  
The two pokemon had hemmed in Luna, Cap had knocked back the Makuhita again (but looked badly beaten up; another attack or two and he’d be down for sure) and the Whismur—  
  
It was lining up with her and Thoreau, mouth opening to attack.  
  
“Get down!” she shouted, and she pushed Thoreau to the ground. A compact burst of sound smashed overhead, making her ears ring anew. It blasted more debris off the front of the diner.  
  
Rui rolled off Thoreau, shaking him, but the fall had knocked him dizzy. The Whismur was still moving towards her, Luna and Cap were tied up and Wes had his hands full directing them. She was helpless. _  
  
—helpless and alone in the trunk, powerless, borne at the whims of others—  
_  
No. She would not be like that again, not ever. She would fight, even in the face of her personal nightmares—she’d fight!  
  
Snatching a loose plank of wood off the ground, she charged the Whismur, screaming. The pokemon staggered back in obvious surprise, and what might have been fear—smaller, unevolved pokemon, despite high potential for mayhem, were more fragile than they appeared. An adult human could hurt or even seriously maim them.  
  
She swung again, and again, missing both times, the Whismur skirting back. It opened its mouth to blast her but she kicked sand in its face. While it scrabbled at its eyes, she landed a blow from the plank. The Whismur squealed in pain and shot her a look of hatred. It jumped at her, spooking her into dropping the plank. Jumping onto the plank, it smirked and gathered in breath.  
  
Just as Rui had been waiting for. At the last second before it released another controlled sonic blast, she dived to the side. The blast soared by, passing through the spot she’d been in, and bulldozed its way into the Ninjask behind her.  
  
The sensitive Bug-type faltered, squealed, and then plummeted to the dust, unconscious. The lack of pressure was all Luna needed to turn the tables on the Aron, who quickly fell to her assault. Turning her eyes to the Whismur, Dark-type energy trailing from her maw like obsidian mist, Luna rushed the small pokemon and shook him like a toy before letting him drop unceremoniously to the desert.  
  
“Help your brother,” Rui told her, “but be careful. That pokemon, there’s something wrong with it. It’s savage.”  
  
Luna nodded and rushed off, smashing the Makuhita in the back. When the Fighting-type reeled, Cap took the moment to pounce, and he was buried beneath the two Eeveelutions.  
  
But Rui’s smile at their victory didn’t last long. With herculean strength, the enraged pokemon burst out from under them, sending them both flying. Poor Cap skipped across the ground and fell into unconsciousness, and Luna scrabbled back as the newcomer advanced on her.  
  
How was it still fighting? It actually didn’t seem to be more resilient than another of its species; bruises and scrapes peppered its body, and its advance was sluggish, halted by pain. More of the dark tendrils wound around it, coiling like serpents. Was it somehow just _ignoring_ the pain? Was violence so important to it?  
  
From the corner of her eye, she saw Wes tense with movement to rush it. “No!” she cried. “It’ll destroy you!”  
  
“You… fought the Whismur,” he forced out. He partially cradled his head—the Whismur’s initial scream had really done one on him.  
  
She shook her head. “That’s different. That pokemon, it’s not like this one.”  
  
Folly, the one with shades, grinned. “That’s right, chickadee. This here’s what our boss calls a ‘shadow pokemon.’ Made to be the perfect fighting machine. Only given to the best!”  
  
His friend smacked him upside the head. “What are you doing blabbing everything for?”  
  
Folly scowled, rubbing the side of his cheek. “What? Those pokemon are on the ropes, and after that, the Snagger’s dead meat. And we’re taking the girl to the boss—who’s she gonna blab to?”  
  
Rui swallowed. “What’s your boss want with me?”  
  
Trudly leered at her. “Dunno. Probably not the same thing we want, though, chickadee.”  
  
Her palms started sweating. She couldn’t fight this creature on her own as she had the Whismur. Neither could Wes. The gun was broken. Cap was down for the count, and Luna was on the losing end of a type matchup, even beyond this ‘shadow’ pokemon’s uncharacteristic savagery. There was nothing she could do.  
  
More darkness flickered around the Makuhita. It was almost to Luna now. She realized that the darkness was only a tiny bit—something under the surface. No, there _was_ something she could do. She just had to admit that she could.  
  
“I’m not a freak,” she muttered to herself. “I’m—I’m not.” The power—Aura—coursed within her, begging her to use it. Luna cowered underneath the Makuhita. It was now or never. “This is… who I am.”  
  
And, for the first time, she opened herself to Aura.  
  
It was like a child with bad vision wearing glasses for the first time. One moment she saw the world, and the next, everything was a tableau of light and power. She saw the aura surrounding them all—Wes’s was a soft grey-ish blue, as was Luna’s; Cap’s was a vibrant gold. She glanced down at her hand to find it ringed in emerald green. Even Trudly and Folly had ashy red auras. All of them were healthy; yes, even the criminals’. They were evil men, but their Aura—their being, she was coming to realize—was complete and untouched.  
  
But the Makuhita’s aura was not a coat of color that clung to it. It was a storming tempest of deep black, purple, and red that crashed off the creature, billowing like ink in water. And beneath the pokemon’s ruthless exterior she was able to perceive a sense of sorrow, of hopelessness, a wounded desperation that hated what it had become. It cried out to her in solace, and she found herself wishing she could help.  
  
And like a thunderclap, it struck her. She couldn’t… but _Wes_ could.  
  
She closed herself to Aura, the sensation surprisingly difficult, like forcing a stubborn door. When it was gone, the world returned to normal except for the tiny leakages of darkness surrounding the Makuhita. His aura was so stained, she realized, that she could still perceive scraps of it even now—like the way the sun still seemed bright if you looked at it with your eyes closed.  
  
“Wes,” she cried out, “use the machine! Snag him!”  
  
He looked at her. “What do you mean.”  
  
The creature was on Luna. She had darted from his blows but she was tiring; the earlier punishment she’d endured from the two-on-one fight had caught up with her. The Makuhita was a juggernaut; it would not break first.  
  
“Snag it! Then it won’t attack.”  
  
He shook his head. “That’s not the way Snagging works—the pokemon are still loyal to their original trainers. They’ll fight any orders I give them.”  
  
“I saw his aura, Wes!” The remembrance of that horrible wound on the pokemon’s being made her hate her former captors even more. How dare they? How _dare_ they? “He hates what he is, he hates his masters—give him an excuse to turn and he will. They made him into a weapon, but a weapon depends on the hand holding it.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Folly demanded. “Forget it, girlie, the pokemon aren’t coming to save you. I’ll grab you right now!” He stomped towards her.  
  
Rui backed away, eyes searching for some sort of makeshift weapon to fight him off. “Wes, this is our chance. Please!”  
  
Wes growled, pulled out a poke ball, and brushed the inside of the machine on his arm. The orange bits briefly glowed, and then he chucked the ball at the Makuhita. The ball hit and—and the Makuhita went inside.  
  
Folly stopped in his place, his eyes bugging. “What?!”  
  
“That bounty,” Trudly said, shifting his feet nervously, “didn’t they say he had a Snag Machine?”  
  
The ball clicked and then flashed open. The Makuhita stood there again, blinking.  
  
“Don’t just stand there!” Trudly demanded. “Finish the Umbreon, then kill the Espeon and their trainer!”  
  
“I’m your trainer now!” Wes said, holding up the ball for the Makuhita to see it. “Do you understand me? You don’t have to listen to them anymore. Do you hear?”  
  
The Makuhita turned to him and, after a second that seemed to stretch like a minute, slowly nodded. It—no, Rui realized, _he_ —lowered its hands.  
  
Trudly swore and pulled out a Great Ball. He aimed it at the Makuhita and nothing happened. He stared at it with an ashen face.   
  
“Oh, hell,” he muttered, his voice weak…  
  
As Luna limped over to nudge her brother to his feet, the Makuhita faced his former trainers.  
  
“Were they nice to you?” Wes asked. The Makuhita shook his head slowly. Trudly and Folly hastily recalled their fallen pokemon; it didn’t work on the Persian. Thoreau’s shotgun had killed it. “Do you want to pay them back?” The Makuhita nodded.  
  
“Run, dude!” Trudly screamed. They both bolted for their car.  
  
“You have my permission.”  
  
The Makuhita roared and hurried after them, moving more swiftly than his stubby little legs could handle. The two men jumped into the car and got it started just as the pokemon reached them. He slammed his fist into the driver’s door, denting it, before ripping it off the chassis. Trudly and Folly managed to back away, sending the Fighting-type tumbling onto his back. The car sped away.  
  
Wes collapsed in relief. “I can’t believe… we actually survived that. That thing is _unstoppable._ ”  
  
“‘Thing’? He’s right here,” Rui said softly. Her footing was still unsure, but she wandered over to the Makuhita. He was sitting in the dirt, staring at his hands.  
  
“No… more,” he was saying. “I’m free… no more.” He clenched his fists. “Then why does it…?”  
  
The darkness spooled off of him in little wisps. Whatever had been done to him, it would not be so easily irreversible.  
  
Rui laid her hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” she said. He flinched and turned to her, raising his hands.  
  
“It’s okay,” she said, backing off. She spread her hands in a placating gesture. “They used you as a fighting machine, but you don’t have to be one anymore. You’re with us now.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “But I still… _want_ to.”  
  
Meanwhile, behind them, Thoreau raised himself from unconsciousness, mumbling. He took in the scene.  
  
“Hey,” Wes said with a loose wave. “We beat them. Also, I Snagged the crazy Makuhita.”  
  
“Uh-huh. Cool.” Thoreau’s eye turned to his ruined building. “You owe me one diner, friend.”  
  
“Put it on my tab.”  
  
Thoreau smiled and looked like he hated it. “You know, Wes? You’re the worst. Like, actually the worst.”


	6. Chapter 6

You’ve no doubt heard. The so-called ‘Brotherhood’ is no more.  
  
Troublesome, but not the tremendous setback some are claiming. Their main purpose was funneling pokemon to us, which they performed admirably. To be frank, Gonzap was a little too ambitious for his own good. Perhaps it was for the best he was taken down before he became a problem.  
  
I’ve heard some say we should move against the bomber, but I believe the remnants of the Brotherhood are taking steps to bring down the assailant. Let them handle it. Doing it ourselves would just risk unnecessary visibility.  
  
I believe the most pertinent issue is finding someone to run the material we were going to trust to Gonzap. With some apprehension, I recommend Miror B. He too is ambitious, but not as suicidally so as Gonzap. So long as he is handled with caution, I believe he can be trusted to fill the void they left.  
  
Awaiting your response.  
  
—Shadow Pokemon Lab  
Chief Ein  
  


\---

Luna watched her brother frolic around, giggling. Cap hardly seemed to notice the small scrapes that still peppered his body even days after the beatdown he’d taken from a mysterious, powerful pokemon—nor did he seem to mind that said pokemon was the one he was trying to incite into play. Tama shuffled along awkwardly, clearly uncertain but indulging her brother.

Luna scowled. Tama. That was his name now. After Snagging him, Wes had decided that whatever old name he’d been given by those lowlife trainers wouldn’t suit him. But after wracking his brian, he’d probed Rui for advice.

The redhead had squatted down in front of the newcomer, wearing a big smile. “Tama,” she said, “is a word from my native language—Kanto. You ever heard of Kanto?” At that, the Makuhita had shaken his head, slowly. “Well, it’s a pretty nice place. Maybe you can go there sometime!”

She always was cheerful and pleasant around him in a way that Luna thought reeked of forcedness. Rui had tried to explain to her and Cap about the things she saw around Tama’s Aura: “His Aura is really hurt. Whatever happened to him, it’ll take a lot of time to recover. So please, be nice to him. It’ll help.”

Cap had nodded and taken to the advice, and within an hour, he was trying to make friends with the Fighting-type—something even Tama himself had seemed shocked at. “But I hurt you,” he said. He didn’t pause every other word as he once had, but he was still quite taciturn. “And tried to kill you.”

“That was your trainers,” Cap had replied, his tail swishing back and forth. “They’re them, and you’re you! Now, come and play?”

Luna shook her head. Her brother could be so trusting and friendly. It was his biggest strength but also his weakness. Well, Luna wasn’t like that. The creature had tried to kill them and she wouldn’t forgive it for a while.

“Now then,” Rui had continued while giving Tama his name, “the word ‘tama’ can actually mean many different things.” She sketched a complex character in the sand. “This symbol is tama, and it means bullet.”

He had nodded. “Because I am a weapon.” He didn’t sound too pleased, but he also wasn’t challenging her.

She shook her head. “No. That’s what they wanted you to be, Tama. But you’re not.” She dashed the character from the sand and sketched a far simpler one. “This is your name. It also is pronounced ‘tama,’ but it has a different meaning.” He gazed at it with interest. “It means something round, like a ball—which kind of fits you, doesn’t it?” She poked his pudge teasingly. Perhaps Rui hadn’t noticed, but Luna had—he’d tensed, fiercely and violently, for less than a second before forcing himself to relax.

Rui continued smiling at him. “It also means ‘jewel.’ Because that’s what you are—you’re not a bullet, or a weapon. You’re something precious. Do you like that name?”

Tama had nodded again, more enthusiastically this time. Rui had hugged him—again, Luna noticed the momentary but almost visceral tension—and then sent him off to play with an enthusiastic Cap, who’d bounded around barking “Tama! Tama!” at the top of his voice.

Even now, remembering that, Luna chuffed.

He really did seem to want to get along with them, and he indulged Cap’s overtures of friendship, if awkwardly so. But Luna remembered her beatdown at his hands too well. He probably would have killed her if Rui hadn’t had that moment of insight.

Around them, the night breeze pulsed. Wes and Rui were holed up in an ex-Brotherhood member’s place, a man who had helped Wes with his plan. Tomorrow they would return to Phenac, a brief stop along their journey to the northwest. Luna stretched and stood. She had words for the newcomer.

Cap was stacking large forts of twigs and pebbles with his psychic power and then demolishing them, laughing. Mimicking him, Tama was stacking three or four large blocks into a squat structure and kicking it over.

Time to put on her no-nonsense, big-sister-in-charge voice. “Tomorrow we’ll be heading to Phenac City,” she said, “so we need to talk about a few things.”

“Can we talk about how _awesome_ I was in that last battle?” Cap said, demolishing another construction. “Cause I totally owned it.” He grinned at Tama. “But you didn’t do too bad yourself, Tama!”

“Actually, that’s what I’m here to talk about,” Luna said sharply. “The past few days more criminals have been after us, hunting the Brotherhood’s bounty. None of them have been tough, but Tama—you’re attacked them with unbridled ferocity.”

“Aw, c’mon, sis, he’s not—” Cap began protesting. Luna quashed him with an iron gaze.

“The way you’re fighting is not acceptable,” Luna said, staring down the Makuhita. He stared back with that same flat gaze as always. “I thought you didn’t want to just be a weapon. Do you _enjoy_ violence?”

“…yes.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I… _want_ to hurt things.” His voice was very flat and unemotive, which chilled her. “It makes me happy.”

“Happy? It sounds like you don’t _want_ to change.”

“C’mon, Luna,” Cap said, jumping in to play peacemaker again. “He’s trying. It’s like Uncle Orange used to say—”

Luna shot him a look of pure venom. “Oh? What _did_ he used to say? Well? Go on!”

Cap fell back, abashed, his ears flat against his head. “That… you know… we should have second chances and stuff…” He trailed off.

She directed her gaze back to Tama. “You’ve been friendly to my brother and you behave yourself around Wes and Rui. That’s good. But you need to change the way you act in battle, not just out of it.” And she turned and trotted away.

She heard Cap approach Tama. “Sorry she’s so mean to you,” her brother said.

“Mean?” Tama replied, with the barest undercurrent of what might have been surprise. “No. I have experienced worse.”

Cap let out a shocked and horrified gasp and Luna checked over her shoulder. Tama had lifted his right arm over his head, exposing the underside—and revealing the long, angry, ropy red scar that traced along it like a worm.

A brief but momentary twinge of regret plucked at her heart. It didn’t excuse his behavior, but that looked bad… Arceus. What _had_ they done to him?

\---

“He has to believe us now,” Rui argued. “Tama’s indisputable proof that I was telling the truth. And once he knows that shadow pokemon are real, then…”

“Then what?” Wes replied flatly. He was brooding over a cup of coffee that Ximena had made for him. For their one night back in town, they’d returned to their friend, who was now fretting and fussing something fierce. “He goes to the authority? But there’s no higher authority in Orre. Mayors are basically all there is. There’s no Pokemon League, no Champion, no Gyms—not even a governor. The mayors convene a council whenever there’s an issue of potential national security, like a war, but that hasn’t happened in ages… who would want to go to war with us anyway? What are they going to invade us for, our sand?”

_“El está en lo cierto, sabes,_ ” Ximena said, bustling Rui another snack. “After we threw off the Unovan yoke, we decided we did not like their model of a Champion who can make any law he pleases. So we elected to not include any, you see?”

“That’s crazy!” Rui protested. “What if someone _does_ invade? What if… I don’t know, Unova decides to take you back, or something.”

Ximena laughed. “Over one-hundred-and-fifty years later? No, it will not happen. Besides, the land itself defends us better than any army. _Ella es inhóspita,_ yeah? No one could both hold ground and fight us.”

“Which is not to say there aren’t real weaknesses,” Wes muttered. “That’s why the Brotherhood was able to grow so strong in the East, and why Miror B rules Pyrite in all but name. And they’re just the most recent examples. Gangsters that grow big enough are basically untouchable, and most of Orresian history is them fighting for control behind the scenes.”

Ximena plopped down next to them. “We are lucky they fight. Imagine if they got along? They could run the whole region openly.”

Wes said nothing, but Rui saw the harsh light in his eyes. That was the very reason he had done what he did.

“Still,” she said, pushing it. “Phenac’s the biggest and most prosperous city in the region. The mayor has to have _some_ pull. We need to at least make people aware that there are more pokemon like Tama out there.”

After his Snagging, Tama had told them terrible things—that there was a “white building, full of fear” that manufactured pokemon like him—took innocent pokemon and subjected them to terrible, awful things until they broke. “It’s different for each pokemon. They find what you hate and fear and do it to you, over and over. But that’s not the worst. After they break you, they take you to this place. A horrible, dark place that gnaws on your soul. I felt myself losing pieces…”

When they emerged, they were like him. Shadow pokemon.

“Tama’s one of many,” she argued. “We need to protect people. And we need to _stop_ what is happening. I told you what he told me.” Tama had not shared too many details of the ‘white building.’ His recollection was fragmented, and wading through what memories of that time remained was difficult for him. But what he had shared was… harrowing.

“We don’t know anything about them,” Wes said. “No name, no plans, nothing but humans in white clothes and a white building doing terrible things to pokemon.”

“It’s a start,” Rui said. “And the mayor can help us. This city is beautiful, Wes, and it’s his. He’s our best bet.”

Wes’s face tightened. “Phenac isn’t as lovely as you think. There’s a lot of ugliness here… it just knows how to hide itself.”

A phone chirped from the other room and Ximena stood up, cursing as she left. When she was gone, Rui checked over her shoulder and leaned in to whisper to Wes. “You made a move against the Brotherhood, and everyone thought they were invincible. And then, in a day, their leadership was gone and their rank-and-file scattered—because of _one person._ You’ve already proven you can make a difference. You said you were motivated to stop because of how scared and miserable the Snagged pokemon were. I know you can’t see Aura, but just look at Tama. Can’t you see he suffered? Don’t those pokemon deserve your help too?”

Wes sighed, closed his eyes, and drummed his fingers on the table. “Alright. But one condition. We don’t set up an appointment—we just show up.”

“Why?”

“Last time I was there, I didn’t get a good vibe from the guy. I think he knew I was Brotherhood, or at least a criminal.”

“He didn’t move to arrest you, if that’s the case.”

“I know. And that’s what’s worrying.” He leaned back. “So we’ll go. But I don’t want anyone to have a chance of knowing where we’ll be beforehand.”

Rui grimaced. It wasn’t ideal, but…

“Deal.”

\---

The light was wan when they left Ximena’s apartment the following morning. Wes’s plan was to engage the mayor when he was on his way in the building. This was perhaps the only time of day when Rui found Orre to be anything close to bearable. She strode along, keeping her hands in her duster’s pockets and keeping close to the brisk pace that Wes and the two Eeveelutions were setting.

The mayor had been obstinate last time, but with Tama to help, there was no way he could deny her now. And Rui was certain he had help to give them, regardless of what Wes had to say. Besides, there was her secret weapon—she knew for a _fact_ that another mayor within Orre would be willing to lend assistance.

Wes thrust his arm out in front of her and she barely avoided stumbling into it. “Hold on,” he muttered.

“What is it?”

“Look.”

Further down the road was a trio of loutish-looking young men in ragged clothing, obviously sizing them up. Memories of kidnappers made her tense, but Rui forced herself to stay calm. “We beat Trudly and Folly,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And all the riffraff who’ve come after your bounty after them, who were all pathetic. Those guys aren’t a match for you, and I bet they can tell. Let’s just move past them. City Hall is just a few blocks away!”

Wes shook his head. “I don’t want to take chances. Let’s backtrack a bit and go one street over. We won’t lose that much time.”

Rui grumbled but followed him. It was strange—normally she would expect a lot of milling people, but in the early light of pre-dawn, the streets were almost deserted. It made seeing the loiterers so suddenly somewhat unnerving.

They moved one street over, and started heading down. But before long, more toughs melted out from in between buildings. They were a loose association of troublemakers, in dirty clothing they thought made them look threatening—a piercing here, heavy jeans there. Each person had at least one pokeball, which was surprising in Orre.

Rui tensed and turned around, and the original trio they’d seen emerged. The ruffians had them boxed in.

“Can’t believe it,” one of them crooned. “Just minding our own business at the end of the night and the guy on the Brotherhood’s bounty comes out of nowhere. Like an act of the gods.” He grinned at Wes. “No offense, dude, but there’s a _lot_ riding on your head.”

“Ever think there might be a reason for that?” With a flash, Wes released Tama. The Makuhita shook lingering slumber from his eyes and took a battle stance. Rui tried not to eye how the wisps of darkness that always trailed off of him surged more frequently when he suspected he would be called on to fight. She had not opened herself to Aura since that day.

“Strange, isn’t it,” Wes continued. “The Brotherhood wants someone dead, but isn’t taking care of it themselves. Should tell you a lot about the person they’re going for.”

The gang of toughs wilted a little bit, but the energetic fellow from before just reddened with anger. “Hate guys who think they’re hot shit,” he growled. “You can’t take us all on!”

And they released their pokemon.

“I hate this town,” Wes growled, and ordered his own to the attack.

Cap immediately leapt into action, launching a salvo of psychic energy at the trio of pokemon behind them. The unlucky pokemon—a Smeargle and two Cacnea—were scattered, and he jumped after them, chortling.

“Three on one’s not fair,” he teased. “You poor guys, you’ll need five at least. Six even!”

Ahead of them, a Sandslash crept low, darting strait towards them, blades extended. Tama roared and lunged, taking the full brunt of the enemy’s slash before grabbing it and pummeling it into the dirt. Arceus above, but it was unnerving to watch him fight. He was so flat and withdrawn, until he came to battle. Then he became a berserker.

Luna leapt right over the two scrapping pokemon and took another one—a Geodude—with her maw. Dark-type energy spooled from it in waves, and the rocky pokemon’s hide was of no use.

Cap had three, and Tama and Luna had two each. That left one—

A shadow fell overhead, accompanied by beating wings. A Pidgeot swooped down on them, screeching, its talons fully extended.

With a cry, Tama hurled the Sandslash at it. The Ground-type smacked it off its path, and as it tumbled low, Tama leapt up higher than Rui would have suspected he could and grabbed its foot. The added weight sent the bird plummeting. When it smacked into the road, he scrabbled over it, landing pummeling blows over and over again. The Sandslash smashed into the pavement, fainting instantly.

The battle was already going their way, and Rui couldn’t help but smirk. The toughs were cowering, some of them ducking back in between buildings. The bravado had fallen. Behind her, Cap was chasing the other three and their pokemon down a lonely alley.

The sound of stone crashed over the street. The Geodude had shaken off Luna and was beating her back with a flurry of rocks. She took a glancing hit to the shoulder and snarled, looking back at Tama. “Swap!” she said.

At her command, he jumped off the Pidgeot and ran to the Geodude, shrugging off panicked Rock-type attacks. He barreled his shoulder into it and then, pinning it to the ground, started smashing it, again, and again, and again.

“It’s fainted,” Rui realized. Tama was still attacking. “Tama, stop! It’s fainted! You’re—you’re gonna kill it!”

Tama stopped mid-swing and held it there, his fist trembling. The wisps of shadow spiked off of him, seething up. And then the moment passed and the shadows lessened, and he slowly slid off of the enemy pokemon.

Rui’s sigh of relief was cut off by a familiar voice calling from the alley. “Ouch! It hurts!”

She turned. “Cap?” she asked.

“It—it hurts, ow!”

She grabbed at Wes’s arm. “It’s Cap—I think he’s in trouble.”

Wes cursed. “Dammit, Luna’s still taking on that feathered monster—I can’t leave her on her own, it’s actually tough.” He turned to Tama. “Go with Rui, follow her like she was your trainer, and save Cap.”

Tama nodded.

“I’m not,” Rui protested, panic fluttering inside of her. “I’m not good at battles—”

“You don’t need to be good at battles, he’s a goddamned wrecking ball. Just point him at whoever you need defeated and he’ll do it. Now save my Espeon!”

Rui swallowed and nodded. She raced into the alley, Tama hot on her heels. Cap’s voice grew closer and closer, until she rounded a corner and—

And he was effortlessly spinning all three enemy pokemon in the air like yo-yos. The poor pokemon looked ready to heave and the trainers were trying and failing to recall them, the lines from their poke balls missing.

“Ouch, it hurts!” Cap crooned with a cocky smile on his face. Free from the hectic fight on the street, Rui recognized something in the voice she hadn’t picked up before: mockery.

“Oh—oh ouch! Ow!” Cap grinned, giving the Smeargle an extra hard twirl before chucking it at his trainer. Both ‘mon and man tumbled in a heap. “It hurts! It _hurts_ to be this good!” He looked over his shoulder. “Hey Rui! Come to watch the awesomeness?”

She wanted to be mad. She really did. But she was mostly just relieved and, she had to admit, a little bit amused.

“Stop playing around,” she said. “Come on.”

Cap let the Cacnea go and the ruffians ran off, recalling their pokemon. Rui shook her head. And she had been worried.

When they to the spot where the alley opened to the main road, it was apparent that Luna was finishing up against the Pidgeot. Rui grinned. The pokemon really were something.

But hold on. Where were the street toughs?

As if in answer to her question, one of them rushed into view, charging Wes with a metal pipe.

Before she had time to even shout a warning, a warm red light caught the guy and suspended him.

Cap grinned up at her, his jewel slightly glowing. “Too easy.”

And that’s when the second man ghosted out of the alley at Wes’s back, holding a knife.

It all happened so fast. The guy was on him almost immediately, the steel sunk to its hilt at the base of his neck. Rui screamed. Wes dropped. The thug with the pipe crashed to the earth as Cap let him go, his mouth agape.

The attacker looked down at Wes, eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what he had just done. “…they said you killed a bunch of people,” he said, taking a step back. “A whole lot. They had a right to want you dead—”

Luna’s teeth took his calf. The young man fell, gasping in pain, and tried to scramble backwards. Luna advanced on him, snarling, and—

And Tama’s hand gently but firmly settled on her shoulder. “It’s done,” he said, his voice flat.

“Get off me,” she snarled. “What he did to Wes—!”

“You are not a weapon,” Tama said. “ _We_ are not weapons. Enough.”

Luna looked at him and then back at the young man, who had fainted. She ripped herself away from his grasp and curled up against herself, shaking.

Rui’s legs carried her to Wes’s side. Cap was already nuzzling him, tears staining his muzzle.

“Gonna be alright,” he said. “You’re gonna be alright, boss!”

She knelt over him, trying to avoid how pale his face was already. There was a _lot_ of red underneath him…

Wes looked at her. “Watch after these guys, would you?” His voice was a mixture of wet and ragged, and there was resignation in it.

She covered her mouth and nodded.

He smiled and sighed. “One of the busiest damn streets in the city and no one’s even here.” Dawn had broken somewhere, and above them, the sky was burning its way into warmth. “Figures. If there’s one lesson this city taught me, it’s that nobody cares.”

“That’s not true,” Rui managed to say. Cap set his head in Wes’s lap, still shaking. Luna finally forced herself up and wormed under his arm, snuggling against him.

“…thanks, you two,” Wes said. He looked between Cap and Luna, the small action seeming to require a great amount of effort. “You saved me way back then. Remember? It was just like this…”

And when the officers and ambulances and onlookers finally arrived, he had already faded away.


	7. Extra #1: Pride Month Vignettes + Fanwork Feature

You're Awesome, Too (Gay Pride | Cap)  
  
  
“So the hardest part about being awesome,” said Cap, “is finding someone to equal your awesomeness.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” replied the Mightyena.  
  
“I mean it,” Cap continued, undaunted. The Espeon’s pronged tail _swished_ back and forth, flicking here and there as he spoke. At moments it tapped against the other pokemon’s dark and dusky fur. “There are so many pokemon out there but nobody who really seems up to snuff, you know? And I try to be accommodating, but it’s a pretty tough bar to clear nonetheless.”  
  
The Mightyena side-eyed Cap, his muzzle twitching in what might have been amusement—or annoyance. Cap decided it had to be the former.  
  
“And it’s dumb ’cause nobody wants to listen to me when I talk about it.”  
  
“Can’t imagine why,” muttered the Mightyena.  
  
“Wes and Luna always look so grim, going on about _this_ and _that_ with the big Brotherhood meeting coming up. They’re both so tense, it drives me crazy. I wish they’d just relax!”  
  
The Mightyena grunted in what Cap was probably, definitely sure was assent. His tail swished further, tapping more frequently against the other pokemon’s hide.  
  
“So I was trying to find someone with some sort of moxie to them and—”  
  
The Mightyena sighed. “This have a point, shrimp?”  
  
The tail stopped. Cap looked down a second, swallowed. When he looked up again, he couldn’t help but see the lean ruggedness of the other pokemon, the assured confidence of his bearing, the loose roughness of his eyes. Arceus above, but he was beautiful.  
  
“I was trying to say,” Cap said in a smaller voice, “that I think you’re pretty awesome too. So, uh, maybe we could… you know… spend time together. Or—or something.”  
  
Silence reigned for a few seconds, a period which stretched like eons to Cap. And then a low rumble of laughter ripped out of the Mightyena as the bigger pokemon nuzzled against the little Espeon. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I could like that.”

\---  
  
Try to Understand (Asexual Pride | Rui)  
  
“Or there’s a very nice boy—that Taro who lives a few apartments down. What about him?”  
  
Rui brushed her hair back, holding it tight before twisting a band around it. She glanced into the mirror before making sure she was satisfied with it before moving to the other side. “No, mom,” she said, not bothering to look away from the mirror. Rui tried to keep exasperation from burning deep inside her. Every few months they had this conversation, and every few months Rui dared to allow herself the optimism that her mother had finally gotten the hint.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
 _Don’t sigh exasperatedly. Don’t be rude. That won’t solve anything._ “I’m not interested in him,” she said, grabbing her hair. “Or in the dating scene. I’ve told you this already.”  
  
She held the elastic bands in her mouth a minute to use both hands to whirl her hair into a tight pigtail. Then she started wrapping them around.  
  
“I know you have, but how can you tell if you’ve never been on one?”  
  
“I know what I want.”  
  
“You say that, but you can’t know for sure.” Rui’s mom paused, cleared her throat, and said the rest in a harried, rushed delivery: “That’s why I told Taro’s mother you were interested in going out with him this weekend.”  
  
Frigid silence hung in the air for a long half-minute. Then Rui stood and stared down her mom. “You did _what?_ ”  
  
“It’s just a brief thing. An experiment. They know that. A visit to the park… it’ll only be an hour—”  
  
“I don’t care how long or short it is, I’m not going on a date I didn’t sign up for!” Rui crossed her arms. “You’ll just have to tell them I’m not going.”  
  
Her mother blanched. “Cancel? But think how rude that would be. Taro’s getting his hopes up…”  
  
“Taro _-san_ is just going to have to live with it,” Rui said, stressing the honorific to twist the knife even further. Her mother had always struggled with the peculiarities of the Kantonian language and it still embarrassed her. “And you want to talk about rude, maybe mention signing someone up for a date against their will.”  
  
“Do you have any idea how humiliating it will be to go over there and tell them their son isn’t good enough for you?”  
  
“Don’t care,” Rui growled. “Maybe the unpleasantness will teach you to finally let this matter rest. I don’t date. I’m probably _never_ going to date. It’s who I am, mom—just accept it!”  
  
She strode out of the room, leaving her mom there, but one question stopped her in her tracks:  
  
“Is it girls?”  
  
“Huh?” Rui swallowed. This was the first time her mother had taken the subject in this direction.  
  
“You’ve always denied going out with any guy I mention,” the older woman said. Her eyes drifted to Rui’s hairstyle. “That girl to the north, Misty, she’s a celebrity. She does her hair like that. Are you… do you have a crush?”  
  
Rui shook her head. Misty was foreign-born in the notoriously xenophobic Kanto, but wore her red hair with pride, and rose to be a Gym Leader despite the disadvantage of pale skin and unusual hair color… Rui admired her, and copied her hairstyle to show off that she wasn’t ashamed of not being fully Kantonian. But admiration and attraction were not the same thing.  
  
“No, mom,” Rui said softly. “I’m not interested in Misty. Or girls.”  
  
Her mom started to cry. “But then what? Rui, I don’t understand… please help me understand. If you’re lying because you think I’ll be mad, then d-don’t! It’s…” She burbled, sniffed. “It’s okay if you like g-girls. I won’t be mad. I just want you to have _someone_. I want another person in this family…”  
  
Rui sighed, her earlier anger going away. “Mom, I…” She turned, facing the other woman. Arceus, but it was hard to watch her cry. “I’m not into anyone. Okay? Not guys. Not girls. Just… no one. And that’s okay. That’s just who I am. Alright?”  
  
Her mom shook her head, still hiccupping from the cry. “I don’t want you to be… alone…”  
  
Rui grimaced, remembering the ache her father’s death had left in her mom. “I’m not alone, mom,” she said. “I friends. I have my Aipom, and I have you too. So you don’t have to worry. I’m alright.” After consideration, she sighed and reached out to grab her hands and calm her. “I’ll… go on the thing with Taro. I’ll make it clear off the bat what happened. That you set it up, and I’m not interested in anyone. If he still wants to hang out for a few hours with a friend, then we can do that. If that’s not what he wants, then we can just not go. But you don’t have to cancel it. Okay?”  
  
Her mom blubbered but nodded.  
  
“Okay.” Rui took a big breath in. “Once you’ve calmed down, we can talk about this. You need to accept that this is who I am… for both our sakes.”  
  
Her mom hiccupped once, twice, and then—an attempt at a smile. “I—I can t-try.”  
  
Rui nodded. It was a start.  
  
\---  
  
"He Was" (Transgender Pride | Mystery Character 1)  
He was male.  
  
He knew it, even if no one else had. His old trainer, whose name and face he had nearly forgotten, hadn’t realized, but that was the problem with trainers—you could never communicate with them quite as well as you would like. Still, even if the human had never moved beyond “she”, they had respected him well enough, particularly his skill as a battler, and the one time they had raised the possibility of getting eggs—“only if you want to, and with a partner you like”—he had protested vociferously enough that said comment was isolated. None of the other pokemon on their team were surprised. They all knew that he was male.  
  
And then, suddenly, he’d been stolen away.  
  
A lab—white walls and dark hearts—suffering—other pokemon, mistreated—the dark room. They’d done things to him and now they called him “shadow pokemon.” He didn’t know what that meant but he knew that there things that had changed. His aggressiveness had spiked, turning a love for competition into something bestial, frightening. Deep down he knew that it was wrong that he liked hurting others, that he hadn’t always been this way, but he couldn’t stop himself, it felt so _good._ He was sullen, withdrawn, snarling at the other pokemon on his new team with his new trainer.  
  
The first time he’d battled, they’d watched with fear as he’d demolished an opposing team, not just beating the enemy pokemon but humiliating and thrashing them so savagely that even the trainer, who knew he’d gotten a “shadow pokemon,” had seemed taken aback. He’d turned and seen the other pokemon watching with fright and growled “I’m male. You hear me? I don’t care what you think you see. I’m male.” They nodded.  
  
It was the one light he had. He knew what he was and the others followed, if only for fear. There were no jeers. No protests or "polite" questions. They only spoke in terms of “he” “him” “his”. He didn’t care that those tones were hushed. He had spoken and they’d listened.  
  
He was male. He was male.  
  
\---  
  
Hermosa (Agender Pride | Mystery Character 2)  
They were not.  
  
They had always been not, and seeing other pokemon endlessly try to figure out “what” they were was entertaining when it wasn’t a little tiresome. “Do Ghost-types even have gender?” one of their teammates asked.  
  
“I think so, gender is just identity, he doesn’t have to reproduce to be a guy,” the other had argued.  
  
When their teammates had probed them a little harder—“Ghost-types used to be human, right? What kind of human were you?—their response had not been to their satisfaction. They had never been male or female.  
  
“That’s not right,” the pokemon had argued. “Humans aren’t like Magnemite or Voltorb, all of ‘em are _something._ ”  
  
“Leave them alone,” another teammate had said. “Ghost-types, man…”  
  
How little they understood. The human they had once been had been born with bits between their legs, certainly, but that meant nothing. In the tribe—one of many that had eked out a living on the beautiful, blasted land, before Orre had changed forever—there was space for more than two arbitrary roles. There were those who fell between, and those who changed, and then those like them—who were not. They were celebrated as envoys of nature, emissaries between different worlds, given special, holy places within the tribe. So holy had they been that their spirit endured, slowly morphing into a new shape, even as the land they’d loved had changed so much…  
  
They had always been this way. It hadn’t been hard for the tribe to understand. Why was it so hard for them now?   
  
They shook their head. The new world was a strange and sometimes contradictory place.  
  
But now memory was cascading over them, and they recalled days of happiness, studying under the shaman in preparation for their role, eying the other apprentices, getting caught and scolded for having eyes on another during a lesson, sneaking out under the stars, days and nights of love and passion. Their lover had not cared about what they ‘really’ were. They had seen them for _them._ It did not matter that they were not. They were beautiful—perhaps more so—because of it.  
  
 _“Hermosa,”_ their lover had whispered, body warm against them, “when the sands are no more and the sun dims like the moon and the moon shines like the sun, even after all that time, I will never stop loving you.”  
  
The Ghost-type smiled. How long it had been, and yet… the love had not faded.

\--- ****  
  
Big Brother, Little Sister, by Jimcloud  
An Eevee and an Espeon sat sprawled out on a cot next to their trainer, who had already well and fallen asleep. Neither of them knew could remember how long it had been since he'd had a real bed - it wasn't fancy and the Espeon, Cap, could feel a spring poking at him a bit until he scooted over, but it was obviously enough.  
  
"So." The Espeon began, a lilting tone in his voice as he held his head high.  
  
"So." The Eevee, Luna, returned. She didn't bother raising her head from her tightly wound circle.  
  
"As your big brother, I've been thinking." Cap began. Luna's head shot up immediately.  
  
"If you happened to forget, you are the younger of us." The Eevee said.  
  
Cap snickered, his twin tails flicking. "But I'm the bigger one. _SO,_ I've been thinking a lot about this since we got here and saw all of those Pokemon." Cap swept a paw out, pointing at the other bunks in the room. There were a fair few Pokemon out and about, resting with fellow members of the Brotherhood - not a lot, but their human was hardly alone in this regard.  
  
"That's a scary prospect." Luna buried her head back in the fluff of her tail. "Go on."  
  
"And I was thinking that if Wes approves, we could find you a nice mate here!" Cap beamed.  
  
Luna stared up at him disbelievingly. "What."  
  
"I've already given this a lot of thought." Cap held a paw out in front of him. "See, I was thinking about the houndour, but he is _definitely_ not your type. Even though he's totally got your sour-looking charms."  
  
"Cap." Luna said in _that_ tone, the one only an annoyed sibling can truly reach.  
  
"Serious? How about serious." Cap nodded. "So! With him out of the way, that narrows the field a bit. I think that Snubbull would be nice! He suits you, but honestly, I'd give him, like, a 6/10 at most."  
  
 _"Cap."_ Luna further betrayed her irritation.  
  
"This is _important,_ Luna!" Cap flicked his tails again. " _So,_ with that out of the way, I think our best option here is the Manectric. He's got the most toned muscles... he looks gruff but with a heart of gold. A charming gentleman, and did you _see_ his teeth? Total boyfriend material."  
  
"If you like him so much," Luna's voice grew muffled as she buried her muzzle in her tail, _"you_ date the guy."  
  
Cap didn't respond, not for a minute. Not for two. After a long time, he whispered, "I can do that?"  
  
Luna's head peeked back out. "...Yes," she said, realization dawning. "You definitely can. And I'd really rather you did, instead of pestering me to see the guys you like."  
  
Cap said nothing for a long few minutes.  
  
"You know, this explains a lot about that Zigzagoon." Cap said.  
  
"The Zigzagoon you ran from like a scared kit?" Luna retorted. "The one that nearly bit you in the neck, and may well have if I hadn't been there?"  
  
"He wasn't perfect!" Cap crooned. "None of us are, in this cruel, cruel world. I mean, I'm just about there, but the rest of you? Psh. I'm willing to look past a few petty flaws."  
  
"He tried to kill you." Luna intoned as matter-of-factly as possible.  
  
"Alright, but the way he kinda skittered back and forth in that zigzag pattern? Precious." Cap sighed into his paws, head sinking onto the bed.  
  
Luna shook her head, leaving him to his gay awakening. The _real_ question was how it took him so long to realize.  
  
She caught him next mooning over the Manectric he'd been talking about. On second thought, perhaps this had been a bad idea after all.


	8. Chapter 7

She had to be strong. For her brother.  
  
She’d cried the first day. She wanted to cry more, but she couldn’t. He needed her. She’d always been the strong one. The rock. And so she forced herself to move past it and shove it all away.  
  
Now they stood over a mile past the outskirts of Phenac, the desert wind whipping all around them. The sun beat down—she still found it uncomfortable despite a lifetime in Orre. His dream had been to escape this blasted heat. She’d dreamt that, too. And she, at least, still had the opportunity…  
  
Luna breathed out a ragged sigh. She couldn’t let herself go down that path. Instead, casting her eyes away from the blinding sun, she took stock in her companions: Cap, bravado withered as he still grappled with loss. Tama, enigmatic as always, though he’d stopped her from exacting a murderous revenge. And Rui—  
  
Their new trainer.  
  
Luna still wasn’t sure what to think of that. Most of the past few days had been spent transferring his property to her. There wasn’t a lot of it: a small amount of cash, the bike, and of course, Luna and the rest of the pokemon. Rui had made sure to take them aside and tell them that she wouldn’t treat them like children or animals. “I can’t dismiss pokemon after talking to them,” she said. “I might be your trainer now, but that doesn’t make me your _owner._ ”  
  
At first, Cap had been upset at Rui for the lack of emotion she’d shown after the tragedy. She’d wept over his body as he passed, and had been ashen-faced throughout the day, but by evening she was composed and interfacing with the humans who had come to speak with her. Luna had also resented her at first, until she remembered just everything Rui had gone through. Losing her mother, the ordeal in the trunk, separating from her pokemon companion Pompom… This was little more than the latest injury life had dished out on the poor girl. In fact, her ability to roll with the punches—to stay composed in the face of such turmoil—impressed Luna greatly.  
  
Now that the transfer had been finalized and they were officially hers, there was only one thing left to do. Rui turned her head to the three pokemon clustered around her. “Ready?” she asked, her voice soft. They all nodded. In truth, Luna didn’t know if they would ever be ready. But now was as good a time as any.  
  
Rui took out a small metal cylinder, unscrewed it, and waited until the wind picked up, blasting far into the desert. Then she tipped it, sending Wes’s ashes playing into the wind.  
  
Luna wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She _couldn’t._ Not with Cap there, sobbing alongside her. She leaned against him, giving him strength. “He always wanted to leave this region,” she said softly. “Maybe the wind will carry him far enough that he actually can.”  
  
It was a small thing to hope for.  
  
They stopped at a small oasis nearby, reposing in the shade. The distant walls of Phenac towered in the horizon. “We need to talk, all of us,” Rui said, sprawled across the soft grass. She’d taken off her duster, heedless of the sweat sheening her arms and shoulders. She tended to oscillate between black and pink shirts; today was one for the latter, a deep magenta that was darker than Cap’s coloring. “We’ve been here for a while, but it’s dangerous to keep staying in Phenac.”  
  
“So you want us to go to Agate, then?” Luna replied. “You were originally heading there before getting caught up in all of this.”  
  
Rui shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Agate’s very far away, and once I get there, I’m going to stay there for a while… maybe forever. But remaining sedentary is a bad idea.”  
  
Cap hiccupped. “H-how come?” he asked.  
  
Rui sighed. “Wes had a price on his head, but I doubt it’s gone away with him. After all, the remnants of the Brotherhood still seemed mad about you two, and there’s also… this.” From inside the coat, she pulled the dark pauldron of the Snag Machine. When not worn, the lower plates retracted into the main part for disguise and transport.  
  
“The Brotherhood’s not going to like that their missing Snag Machine is still AWOL. As long as it’s loose, they’ll be hunting us down.”  
  
“Why not just abandon it in the desert?” Cap suggested.  
  
Luna swished her tail into his side, chastising him. “Dummy. They’d still think we have it and would chase us anyway, and they wouldn’t likely believe us if we told them we didn’t have it anymore.”  
  
“Getting rid of it seems like a big liability,” Rui agreed. “Plus, while you two were… grieving, I talking over a few things with Tama.”  
  
“There are others like me,” the Makuhita said. “Shadow pokemon.”  
  
“If what Tama says is true, there’s a big operation creating shadow pokemon and shipping them around the region. If they wind up in the hands of people like… ugh, like my kidnappers, then as we saw, they can be really dangerous. Plus, I’d be willing to bet that the new pokemon Revy was talking about back at the bar was a pokemon like this.”  
  
“Probably a safe assumption,” Luna muttered. “So you’re saying that this is tied up with the Brotherhood as well?”  
  
Rui nodded. “Right. This operation… it’s huge, and I don’t think anyone is going to do anything about it.” She scowled. “I had the opportunity to talk to the mayor again, after… what happened. He was intrigued by Tama but blew me off. Even if he _did_ believe I could speak with pokemon, he said, there was no indication that a lone traumatized Fighting-type would be telling the truth.”  
  
She stood up, standing tall under the palms, her gaze stretching out across the desert. “But we’re not alone. Ximena wants to help us, and I managed to get a hold of Thoreau. He still knows the other turncoats who helped Wes bring down the Brotherhood. There are lots of people in Orre willing to take a stand.”  
  
Cap stood up, his eyes wide. “What are you saying we should do?” he asked. Luna noted that the tremor in his voice was gone. Her brother had always loved throwing himself into big fights for ‘justice’ and whatnot.  
  
“Tama knows where he and many other shadow pokemon are being distributed from. Pyrite Town in the east.”  
  
“City of fool’s gold…” Luna muttered. It would be dangerous. Even by Orre standards, Pyrite was notoriously lawless. Miror B, the infamous crime lord, essentially ruled there.  
  
“Wes fought to stop the Brotherhood from exploiting people and pokemon,” Rui said. “Whatever’s happening, it seems just as bad. He was able to bring them down with just a little help. I… I think we can try to do the same.”  
  
“I know you managed to convinced him before he passed,” Luna said, “and he’d be interested in bringing down scum like that.” She stood up and slowly stalked towards Rui, fixing her with a firm gaze. “But why are _you_ invested? You’re not like us. You had a normal life in one of the world’s greatest cities. You haven’t seen the dark side of Orre like we have. So why?”  
  
Rui met her gaze for a moment, the view surprisingly steely, before the girl’s gaze softened. “Maybe once I would have run away,” she said softly. “But the events of the last few days have changed me. The time I spent in that trunk… I’m still having nightmares. I probably won’t ever stop. It was hell, and I wasn’t even in there for twenty-four hours.” She gestured at Tama. “What they did to him… to the other pokemon… they’ve made them suffer over and over and over again, so badly it stained their Aura. If my paltry ordeal was that bad to me, I can’t begin to imagine what they’re going through… Those pokemon need someone to fight for them.” She hefted the Snag Machine. “Like it or not, fate’s given me weapons to fight against this—a Snag Machine uniquely situated to take back shadow pokemon. A trio of extremely powerful pokemon to take down adversaries. And people like Ximena and Thoreau and the others Wes knew from the Brotherhood, a network of people to support us. I made up my mind in that trunk to fight no matter what, and I will, even if it’s not for myself. And besides,” she said, a slight note creeping into her voice, “looking down at him as he died… I can’t run from the people who did that.”  
  
She threw back on the duster, and fixed the pauldron over her shoulder. Unlike Wes, who was used to it, Rui still clearly was learning to deal with the added weight. “I won’t force you to something you don’t want to, Luna,” she said. “Like I said, I’m not your owner. We should decide as a group.”  
  
“I support it,” Tama said with slightly more force than usual—which, for him, was like shouting from the mountaintops.  
  
Cap looked at her and shrugged. “So long as the Snag Machine’s around, bad guys are gonna come for us,” he said. “If we’re fighting them, it might as well be for a cause.”  
  
Luna swallowed. When they were planning the bombing, she’d expected the Brotherhood to hunt them down, all three of them, and execute them in reprisal. But in her secret fantasies, she’d imagined retiring with her brother and trainer to a quiet life—somewhere in Kalos, perhaps, or rural Unova.  
  
But here she was—alive, but with Wes gone. It seemed that quiet life was never to be.  
  
“Alright,” she said. “I guess… let’s take the fight to them. Let’s end this shadow pokemon scheme.”  
  
Rui smiled. Tama nodded. Cap grinned and hopped up in delight.  
  
And, at that moment, a plume of fire soared across the desert, heading right towards them.  
  
\---  
  
The fire just missed Rui, instead bursting against a tree at her back. The whole thing went up in flames, sending waves of heat crashing over her. Maybe Wes would have rolled out of the way, all style and confidence—Rui simply staggered back, her arms windmilling. She was going to have to get used to this “running around while under attack” thing.  
  
More attacks came from the desert, this time small nodes of energy, highly compressed and shining like stars. Teeth gritting, Cap rushed forward and directed pinpoint blasts of psychic energy at them, each node erupting into a sphere of power before dissipating. The nodes started coming faster and faster, each one flying out of the desert. They arced this way and that, spiraling around in odd ways, soaring overhead or curving around to the sides. Perspiration beaded on Cap’s head, and not from the heat—there were simply too many for one pokemon to keep up with. It was only a matter of time until—  
  
“Look out!” Luna yelled. She dived on Cap and the two of them went sprawling, barely missed by a node that soared overhead. It smashed into the ground and detonated, the explosion ripping apart the oasis. Tama threw himself in front of Rui, grunting as he took the brunt of the attack, and the two of them were knocked back.  
  
Rui rose, her head spinning, to see a shape, wreathed in fire, racing at them across the desert. At first she thought the shape was massive, a comet of strength and fire… but then her vision cleared, the haziness in her head dissipating. The phantom image of a majestic foe melted away like water, revealing a smaller figure.  
  
The Quilava opened her mouth and the voice that emerged was a surprisingly deep contralto, the voice of a mature female. “You won’t have the chance,” she growled. “I won’t let you put an end to the plan!”  
  
She stopped, planted her feet, and roared. Enormous ropes of fire emerged from around her, winding like snakes, before coiling their way towards the group. The flames left bits of the desert smoking in their wake.  
  
Groaning to his feet, Cap sent a lance of energy at one of the attacks, but his power merely parted the flames. They swept into him, knocking him back with a wail, and Tama and Luna were driven back by the encroaching fire.  
  
“My master needs shadow pokemon,” the Quilava growled. “I don’t want to do this… I don’t want to do _any_ of this, but it needs to be done. For my master’s sake!” Her eyes passed through the flames and fixed on Rui, narrowing as they saw the Snag Machine. “I’m sorry, human.”  
  
The Quilava’s back flames ignited and she raced directly at Rui with killer speed.  
  
It was astonishing how fast she moved—one moment she was far enough away that she’d needed to shout for Rui to hear her, and the next, she was little more than an arm’s reach away. The Quilava’s speed almost seemed unreal.  
  
But Tama was able to react. Swinging his fists before the newcomer had even begun her dash, he clipped her right as she rushed Rui, knocking her off her path. Her fires fizzled out as she tumbled over the sand, and with a roar, Tama jumped on her. His bloodlust had exploded once again, and he pummeled and struck and hit the Fire-type with raw savagery. The wisps of darkness, characteristic of a shadow pokemon, cascaded off of him in _waves,_ spiraling up into the air—  
  
Wait. Was it only him they were coming off of? The two pokemon were scrabbling over the dirt, so it was hard to be sure where the dark wisps originated from. Were they really _all_ from Tama? Rui couldn’t be sure, but she thought that some might be coming from the Quilava herself.  
  
Tama continued his assault. By now he’d landed dozens of blows. Rui had seen that strength in evidence against Cap and Luna, as well as other adversaries. When he unleashed it, the dark wisps—which normally only came in small numbers, and briefly—flooded out of him. It was astounding that the Quilava was still standing.  
  
The Fire-type shook her head, tossing Tama aside, and snarled, the sound low and mighty. Rui gasped—the Quilava barely looked the worse for wear. It seemed that all those blows from Tama had merely _inconvenienced_ her. She lunged forward and smashed her skull into his chin with a loud _crack,_ the impact sending Tama staggering back. The wisps died out as his eyes rolled up and he collapsed, unconscious.  
  
Before the Quilava could turn to Rui, Luna leapt onto her back, scrabbling and biting.  
  
“Pathetic,” growled the Quilava, and re-ignited her back flames. Luna cried out as the flames licked her and rolled off, backing away. There was a slight limp to one of her paws.  
  
“How,” Luna said. “How are you so _strong?”  
  
This isn’t the first time we’ve asked this question,_ Rui realized. _When we first met Tama at the Outskirt Stand…!  
_  
“I’ve heard that you and your companions were fearsome,” the Quilava replied. She gave a short, sudden hop forward and cuffed Luna across the face with one paw. The blow knocked the Umbreon dizzy, sending her tumbling across the desert sands. The Dark-type tried to stand up and stumbled, panting. She was out of the fight. They all were. _  
  
She’s one of them_ , thought Rui. _She has to be._ Almost mechanically, she reached up to the pauldron and switched it on the way she had seen Wes do it. The various plates extended down, covering her arm as the Snag Machine readied itself.  
  
“But this is what passes for strength in this age?” the Quilava continued. “Truly disheartening.” She turned to face her original target, Rui, and froze, her eyes wide.  
  
The Snag Machine was running, and a poke ball was in her hand. “You don’t have to do this anymore,” Rui said, and chucked it. The ball smashed against the Quilava, sucked her in, wiggled for a few moments… and clicked.  
  
As Luna shook herself awake and roused Cap, and Tama groaned his way to his feet, Rui approached the ball, picking it up gingerly. “It’s all right,” she told it. “I’ve got you now—”  
  
Suddenly the ball shook and opened of its own accord. The light coalesced into a great blinding fire, which shrunk down to reveal the Quilava. She glared at Rui. “You—you—” Sudden laughter bubbled from her, sharp and almost mocking. “You think you can hold _me?_ How presumptuous.”  
  
“I—I’m your trainer now,” Rui said desperately, holding the ball aloft. She remembered Wes’s warnings: Snagged pokemon weren’t always instantly loyal. “Whatever your ‘master’ told you, it’s over. You don’t have to do it anymore! I know you’re hurting… you’re one of them, aren’t you? A shadow pokemon.”  
  
She closed her eyes and began opening herself to Aura.  
  
 _“Wait!”  
  
_ The sharp call from the Quilava jolted her out of it. The Quilava looked shocked; no, more than that. Positively aghast.  
  
“You would—you would _dare—_ ”  
  
“What’s going on?” Cap asked, leaning against his sister for support. The two of them, as well as Tama, had pressed close to the newcomer, trying their best to look intimidating. Despite this, Rui had no doubts the Quilava could still wipe the floor with them. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I was just checking her aura to confirm that she’s a shadow pokemon,” Rui said, her brow lowering.  
  
“…of course.” The Quilava calmed slightly. “That’s how you know what they are—you’re an Aura-reader. I had my suspicions.” She shook her head. “And none of these pokemon can sense Aura, so they don’t know when you’re looking at them…”  
  
“And Quilava _can_ sense Aura?” Luna challenged. “Not from my understanding.”  
  
The Quilava fixed her with a flat, contemptuous gaze. “…my father was a Lucario,” she said after a brief moment. “I didn’t inherit any moves from him. In fact, I can’t even perceive Aura myself… but I know when others are using it around me.” She turned back to Rui. “Aura is a creature’s sense of self, its very _being_. The most intimate aspect of itself.” The air around them grew hotter as the Fire-type’s voice sharpened. “To simply gaze upon it without permission is obscene.”  
  
Rui nodded. It made sense. She didn’t open herself to it often for that very reason—it seemed she was peeking at something sacred. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. But I need to see if you’re a shadow pokemon. Can I look at your aura?”  
  
“…just this once,” the Quilava said.  
  
Rui nodded and opened herself again.  
  
It was like before. Herself, ringed in green. Cap and Luna, in gold and blue-grey, respectively. (Their auras seemed slightly less vibrant than before; perhaps from grief.) Tama’s was still a tempest of shadows that almost hurt to look at. And the Quilava’s…  
  
Was the same. The same red and black and purple, the same billowing tide of darkness. Behind the aura, Rui was able to perceive emotions: longing for something that had been lost, a sense of sorrow at unpleasant actions she’d felt forced to perform… and most of all, winding through everything, a fraught, almost desperate sense of duty towards an aloof, unpleasable authority. Her ‘master.’  
  
Rui closed herself.  
  
“Did you see what you thought you would?” the Quilava asked, her voice quiet.  
  
Rui nodded. “Yes. You’re a shadow pokemon. I… I’m so sorry. What was done to you, to _all_ shadow pokemon, is evil. No living thing should have to suffer in such a way that its very sense of being was stained. It’s unforgivable.”  
  
The Quilava grew very quiet.  
  
“I also saw, in your aura, your absolute need to serve your master.” The Quilava’s eyes snapped up—she looked shocked. “It drives who you are. It drives everything you do. You _need_ to please them, but they don’t give you the validation you crave. Do I have it right?”  
  
“… and this is why Aura is so fearsome,” the Quilava whispered.  
  
Rui squatted down near her. “I want to help you. I want to help _all_ shadow pokemon. Maybe your old master was unpleasable, but as your trainer, your _friend,_ I can help you. Okay?”  
  
“…you, as my master? Replace _them?_ ” The Fire-type broke into a wry, humorless chuckle. “This is too funny…” Her eyes drifted to the ball in Rui’s hand. “I… I will tolerate this. For now. I will accompany you and see… how things go.”   
  
Rui sighed, and the others relaxed as the tension left.  
  
“But,” the Quilava said, “you will never look at me through Aura without my permission.” Her eyes grew fierce. “Do you understand?”  
  
Nodding, Rui affirmed it: “Yes, I do. I respect your agency… I’ll always ask you.” She eyed the other pokemon, questioning.  
  
“I’m fine with it,” Cap said. “You can look whenever you want, Rui. I trust you.” Tama nodded in affirmation.  
  
“…I’d probably prefer if you asked,” Luna said after a pause. “Though I won’t raise hell if you don’t.”  
  
The Quilava sat down, seemingly at ease. Tentatively, Rui reached out a hand to her cheek; the Fire-type flinched a bit when Rui cupped it, but she eased into the gentle scratches.  
  
“Guess we’ve got a new teammate!” Cap said happily, seemingly ignoring the bruises and small burns that peppered his body. Would _every_ shadow pokemon only join after thoroughly thrashing the team? “I’m Cap, by the way. Short for Captain Justice.”  
  
“I’m Luna.”  
  
“…Tama.”  
  
“And what about you?” Rui said. “Is there something you like to be called?”  
  
“Yes,” the pokemon replied. “Call me Vulcana.”


	9. Chapter 8

You see? What did I tell you? The problem solved itself. The boy is dead.  
  
—Shadow Pokemon Lab  
Chief Ein  
  
\---

Rui stirred awake, thinking she had heard something large shuffling about. But when she blinked her eyes open, there was nothing surrounding them except the dark and barren Orresian desert.

Shivering, she pulled herself deeper into her sleeping bag. And not just because it was cold—though Orre, fickle as ever, dropped from blistering under the sun to only a few degrees shy of freezing when night came. No, there was something about the dark landscape around her that seemed almost alien.

Part of it, she was sure, was just unfamiliarity. She grew up in Kanto, after all. She felt comfortable in that place, that climate—the proximity to the sea, the humidity, the verdant forests and misty mountains. This place was like a moonscape compared her home.  
 _  
Some home,_ a bitter part of her whispered. _Born in Saffron, raised speaking Kantonian as your native tongue, yet treated like an outsider…  
_  
It was true, of course. Her mother, an Orresian descended from Unovan settlers, had fallen in love with a Kantonian student, Daishi Matsuhara, and had followed him back to his home region to marry and raise a child.

Rui had inherited many things from her mother. Her orange-red hair, which had been fading by the time she’d passed, for one. Freckles for another. In Kanto, one of the most homogenous of nations, she’d never really fit in despite being a native through and through.

Coming to Orre, returning to the land of her mother’s birth, Rui had entertained notions of fitting in better here. But people still looked at her funny. They just ignored her hair and freckles to focus on her cheekbones and almond eyes instead.

She’d expected different. How little she knew.

Another blast of wind knifed past her and she groaned, accepting that she wouldn’t be falling asleep again anytime soon. Still bunched up in her sleeping bag, she eased her way up to take in the desert night. In Saffron, light was everywhere, even at night. You could see no stars in the night sky, and escape from at least some kind of noise was impossible. But here, they were spread out like a stellar blanket cradling the heavens. She had to admit—there was real beauty here. It was almost hypnotic, how beautiful they were.

More sound stirred around her and she tensed, realizing it wasn’t the wind. But a figure came in, low and sinuous with small embers on her back. It was the newcomer to their team: Vulcana.

Vulcana’s soft orange light spilled across the sand and rocks, the hues lighting up the darkness like a torch in a cavern. Far from reassuring, the way the light quickly died simply reminded Rui of how truly vast the desert was. The Quilava settled down, resting her paws on her hands.

“I thought I would circle the perimeter,” she said, her low and husky voice still surprising to Rui after all this time. “This region is desolate enough that there are few threats, but it never hurts to remain vigilant.”

Rui nodded. Vulcana had been with them for a few days, but the Quilava was still an enigma. She was aloof, preferring to avoid interfacing with the other pokemon (Luna in particular seemed hostile towards her—an issue that Rui would need to correct, and soon) and even only rarely with Rui herself. Another thing she had learned was that Vulcana was _powerful,_ even by the standards of a shadow pokemon. None of the other three could beat her one-on-one, and in a training session that had gotten a little more heated than normal, Cap, Luna, and Tama all teamed together and barely fought her to a standstill.

She suspected Vulcana might have thrown the match even then.

Rui tried not to be afraid of the pokemon sitting across from her. Vulcana hadn’t moved against them, and had followed Rui’s orders without reluctance, though sometimes with an air of bemusement. Vulcana wasn’t their enemy. She was their friend.

As Rui stared at her, the Quilava blinked, and a tiny tendril of shadow snaked off of her. That steeled Rui’s heart.

She was more than just a friend. She was a _victim._

And yet… one surprisingly tight-lipped.

“Tell me about the plan,” Rui said, the question flowing from her like water.

Vulcana flipped an ear in annoyance. “I will not,” she said. “Do not ask again.”

Rui’s quiet probes to Vulcana had gotten her rebuffed over the last few days, to the Quilava’s increasing irritation. But Rui decided not to back down this time. “What do you know?” she pressed. “Why were you sent? Why attack me?”

Vulcana sat in stony silence.

Rui fumed, attempting to leash her temper. “It’s not like it’s _your_ plan,” she said. “They hurt you!”

“…I am just a servant,” Vulcana said, and there was something heavy in her voice. “In service of something much greater. This is… a necessary evil…”

She looked off in thought, clearly distraught, and Rui elected to leave her be. She still remembered seeing the Quilava’s aura, and her desperate devotion to an unpleasable master…

Without realizing it, Rui drifted into Aura. Before she opened herself too far, the Quilava’s head snapped up and a low growl rippled from her in warning.

Blinking, Rui realized what she was doing. She dismissed it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m new to this… I didn’t mean to.”

Although unhappy, Vulcana seemed to accept this explanation. She rested her head on her paws once more. “You did not know you were psychic?”

The question shocked Rui. “No,” she said. “Not until a week or so ago.” She shook her head. “I lived a very quiet life in Kanto. Do you know the region?”

“…I have heard of it.” Vulcana tilted her head. “Tell me of it, child.”

Rui groaned, snuggling back in her sleeping bag. She went over her history as a mixed-race child, the difficulties she faced.

“That does not seem all that eats you,” Vulcana noted. Rui blinked at her. The Quilava was perceptive, when she wanted to be. “Tell me,” she continued. “These aches you bear.”

“…those’re private,” Rui muttered.

A sudden, angry snort from Vulcana cut her off. “You can see our very being whenever you wish,” she said. “You already know more of me than I would wish anyone to know… What is it you humans say about trust and two-way streets?” She met Rui’s gaze fiercely. “It would be a gesture that means a lot. It would demonstrate trust, and tell me you mean it when you say that you don’t consider yourself above us.”

Rui tried not to squirm. She had seen things from the shadow pokemon, and had seen Cap and Luna at their lowest when their trainer had died… Was it fair for her to keep her own scars secret? Could it help bridge the gap between her and Vulcana?

“My father…” She swallowed. Even after all the years, it was still hard. “He was killed in a workplace accident a few years back. My mom won a suit but squandered the money in her grief… she was never the same. Me and Pompom—my Aipom, a gift from her—were so worried…” Her hands trembled. Dammit. _Dammit._ “Her health declined. She was sick, and then, suddenly, barely into my adulthood, she was gone.”

The ache of loss. The burn of loneliness. She wouldn’t cry. She had to be strong.

“I had nothing. How would I take care of myself? Of Pompom? Then I got a message from my mother’s father, here in Orre. I’d never met him in person, but he offered me a place to stay… I had never really fit in anywhere; there weren’t any friends who would bid me farewell. Thanks to my upbringing, I spoke Unovan as readily as Kantonian, since mom always spoke her native language at home. So I left.”

“And?” Vulcana’s eyes were bright, inquisitive. Rui felt compelled to continue.

“And losing her broke something in me,” she said bitterly. “I suddenly became psychic.” She glanced at her hand. “Back in Kanto, psychics aren’t looked on with much love. In Saffron especially, due to a psychic woman ousting a popular and traditional martial artist as a Gym Leader. They—we—are hated and despised. Regarded with suspicion.” She clenched her fist. “There was a psychic girl in school. She could make pencils come to her and stuff. I… wasn’t nice to her. None of us were. She eventually left to work at a shrine…”

She found herself laughing, the sound humorless and almost empty. “I hated psychics my whole life like any good Kantonian, and then I suddenly am one. And already I can’t imagine not seeing Aura, or speaking to you and the other pokemon.” She smiled. “It’s weird, because I realize that comprehending you all is not just the vocals, you know. That’s the biggest part of understanding, but I pick up on other things. The way you hold yourselves. Your _smell._ I’m able to parse it all out instantly, like a supercomputer, and figure out what you’re saying. Most of the time I’m not even aware I’m doing it… the way you’re not aware of blinking. Or breathing.” She sighed. “I just wish I could have listened to Pompom…”

“What happened to her?”

Rui blinked. As she was talking, Vulcana had come closer to her and was looking at her with more interest. It couldn’t be called wide-eyed, but there was a lack of hesitancy there that Rui had never felt with her before.

“She was… taken.” Her mouth was dry. “As was I. I saw a shadow pokemon for what it was, and its trainers abducted me and took her. I was able to escape, but…” She found herself hugging her knees tight. “She’s gone. They took her. She’s just gone.”

“…so that’s why.”

Rui glanced over at Vulcana. “What do you mean?”

“The Brotherhood traitor is dead. You could run away. Oh, they might try to hunt down the Eeveelutions, but given their strength, I expect they’d give up soon if you didn’t make trouble.” Vulcana’s gaze pierced her. “But you _are_ making trouble. I wondered why. But now I know. You want her back. You want to find her.”

Tears sprang to Rui’s eyes, and she wiped them away fruitlessly—they kept coming back. “N-no, she’s gone, I know that…” She didn’t wanteto admit it, to admit that she was putting herself, her friends, in danger for such a vain dream…

“You say you do,” Vulcana said softly. “But it’s okay to miss someone, and want to bring them back.” Her voice grew distant with reminiscence…

“I…” Rui sniffed. “I… want to help the pokemon. There’s nothing wrong with that. I d-don’t need a different reason…”

Vulcana shot a sad smile at her. “You ‘help’ by hunting down criminals. And if you find your stolen pokemon, well, that’s just a bonus, then, right?”

Rui tried to say something but her throat was too tight. “S-she’s… all I have…” she forced out. “All that’s left of my old life…” It hurt to say. She’d known, deep down, that this was at least partially about Pompom.

“You’re helping others for a selfish reason.” Vulcana’s face had returned to her distant, aloof mask. “You’re not that different than the ancient humans who built towers in the Johto region. ‘Praise the gods—and let their glory come to us!’ No matter the land or the era, your species never changes.” She stood, stretched, and walked over to her poke ball, which was lying near Rui’s backpack. “Enough chat, trainer. Tomorrow, we reach Pyrite—and you can finally take the fight to your enemies. You need rest.” She bumped her nose against the button and let herself inside, leaving Rui to sit and think amidst the cold and dark and wind-carved stone.

\---

In every land, in every nation, in every world—if people converge, there will always be a Pyrite.

Sometimes it is an alley where gin runs and louts thuggishly walk the loose cobbled streets. In other places it might be a shantytown of cardboard, where children frolic among trash as their parents sell goods that don’t officially exist in exchange for money that will never be taxed. It might be a single building where those in the know can go for curious wares. It could be a barren stretch of land which has seen more blood than its isolation implies.

Here, in Orre, it is a city unto itself. Buildings made of scrap and repurposed stone. Neon signs that were gnawed into disuse by the wind years ago. A shameless, cackling heap of scum and their victims, which sprouted like a rusty weed inside a derelict canyon within the far reaches of the southern badlands. Orre itself has a lawless, seedy reputation amongst the other regions.

Well, Pyrite is truly an Orre’s Orre.

Rui found herself in a quiet alley between two buildings whose outsides had been patched up with metal plates on so many occasions that she wondered if any of the original walls remained. Noon had come and passed, and the alley was in shade, yet the blistering heat remained. Sweat beaded on her neck and she found herself reaching for the water bottle she kept in her pack. She vaguely considered shucking her coat, and dismissed the idea immediately. She needed the coat—or rather, what came with it.

After all, she’d already managed to Snag a new pokemon.

The Misdreavus—a Ghost-type, she realized with some awe; the rarest of all types, they were revered in both Kanto and Johto—had been being ordered to do various embarrassing and degrading tasks by its trainer, a crude tween. Rui had watched with disapproval from far down the road as the child had bullied the Ghost-type, had gaped with astonishment when the put-upon pokemon turned on its own trainer, lashing out at the kid and others nearby who had been jeering at it. She’d seen black streaks rising off the creature, rushed in, Snag Machine at the ready, and before she’d known it, the pokemon had been hers.

As the tweens had rushed away—one staggering from the Ghost-type’s attack, the other whimpering and swatting at things that weren’t there (Luna had assured Rui that the youth would recover by evening)—she’d confronted the kid.

Turns out the Misdreavus wasn’t even his. His brother—older, her age, and “tough and mean”—had received the pokemon as a reward from his “friend,” a man who owned a disco club in town. The tween had stolen it to show off to his peers.

“He’s gonna kill me,” the little guy had whispered. “He’s—he’s gonna kill me when he learns I lost his pokemon…”

If his brother was the sort of person to get rewarded with a shadow pokemon, it was a possibility he wasn’t exaggerating.

“Do you have a friend’s house you can stay at?” Rui had asked him. He’d nodded. “Then go there tonight. And call this number.” She gave him Thoreau’s contact info. Surely there were ex-Brotherhood in Pyrite that the kid could hide with.

Now, the shadowed alley doing little to stave off the oppressive afternoon heat, she had released the Misdreavus. The pokemon had been distraught at first, but now he was calming down. “I’m sorry,” she said. (He? She? It was hard to tell; their voice wavered between masculine and feminine, and it was not as though they had other characteristics.) “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to get hurt anymore…”

More black streaks rose from it. After getting permission from the other pokemon, she opened herself to Aura.

The Misdreavus was a shadow pokemon, but their aura was different from Tama and Vulcana’s. Whereas those two had auras that stormed and raged, this one’s darkness spooled off of them in waves, slowly sliding down to splash on the ground like thick swamp water. There was a desperate mournfulness to it, and vulnerability—this creature had been hurt, over and over, and behind the violence and aggression, all it wanted was someplace it could be safe.

Through the lens of Aura, Rui _felt_ the creature’s desperation, its quiet pleas for help. She felt herself alone in the trunk again, huddled in darkness for hours, throat raw from screaming, almost naked and desperately vulnerable, certain of miserable treatment and death.

She tasted those feelings in this creature’s being, saw them reflected in Tama and Vulcana, and she wanted to retch. No. _No._ She wouldn’t feel that way again. She would never be vulnerable like that again. And she’d put a stop to the stained auras that made her feel that way. No creature needed to feel that vulnerable.

She had to do it. She couldn’t let it happen again, to her _or_ them.

The Ghost-type’s aura reached at her tentatively, almost timidly, but when it was on her, it suddenly swept her along a tidal surge of memory and sensation. She saw things inside the creature’s sense of self… recollections of an earlier, far-off life, a life in an Orre that was unchanged yet very, very different. She saw tribal life, a person neither man nor woman, dances under the stars… and the person died and became—

She gasped and forced the door shut, panting. She stared at the trembling Ghost-type with wide eyes. “You’re… you used to be…”

The Misdreavus nodded. “Yes,” they said, “a long time ago. Most Ghost-types were, at some point.”

Rui felt even more outraged that the depravities of making something into a shadow was visited on a former human—and then nonplussed at herself for thinking there was a difference. _Humans aren’t better than pokemon._

“Listen,” she said, reaching a friendly hand towards them. They shied away. “I’m your new trainer now. There are other pokemon like you—” she gestured towards Tama and Vulcana, “—and I’m here to help. Okay? We’re going to help.”

The little ghost nodded, looking sad and scared. “I don’t… I don’t _want_ to hurt anyone,” they said. “But sometimes I just get… so _mad…_ ”

“It’s okay,” Rui said.

“Can I… go in my ball?” they asked. “I can talk later, but right now… I need space for myself.”

“Of course.”

Rui recalled them. “Let’s find a place to stay,” she told the others.

That was easier said than done. There was no Pokemon Center in Pyrite, and asking had gotten her contemptuous looks. Agate and Phenac were the only towns in the whole region that had Centers, it seemed, though there was talk that Gateon Port would be getting one soon.

She’d resigned herself to staying in a motel, but the first place she’d gone to had rejected her. “Sorry, no room,” the clerk had said. Rui had cursed and left, but as she’d done so, she’d noticed a fourth-story room being cleaned. Couldn’t they have rented her one of those?

The next motel had sold her the same story. As she left, Tama, who was walking beside her, had nudged her side. “Don’t look now,” he’d said, “but the same bird pokemon’s been circling over us since about ten minutes since we left the first place.”

The news made her swallow, or attempt to. Her mouth was dry with fear.

“I think they know who you are,” he said. “We should be careful.”

She’d tried calling Thoreau, but he didn’t pick up. Ximena wouldn’t be able to help. Eventually she found her way to a small park—little more than a glorified lot with dry grass, scrubby trees, and a few pieces of hard-worn playground equipment.

She sat on a swing, trying not to shudder as the shadow of a bird pokemon drifted over her. She released the other pokemon, except her new Misdreavus, and Tama explained what was happening to them.

It wasn’t long before the few other people that were there began to clear out. They hurried off, trying not to look too distressed, as a few indistinct shapes approached from down the street. The shadow of the bird pokemon had stopped circling her and had joined them.

She could run. Have Cap lift her over the fence with his powers, recall all the pokemon, and book it. With the bird pokemon no longer tailing her, she could evade notice for a little bit if she was sneaky enough. She could try Thoreau again. She could run.

She could be the sort of person who ran. Who lost cherished pokemon, was stripped and gagged and thrown in trunks, who had to watch powerlessly as the first real friend she’d had bled to death under her watch. She could be that person.

Or she could bring the fight to them. Make them pay for what they did to her, to Pompom, to Wes, and to all the shadow pokemon. She could not be vulnerable.

Yeah. That seemed like a better plan.

As the figures approached the park, Cap tensed. “That guy used to work with Wes,” he said. “Brotherhood.”

The bird pokemon—a large, menacing-looking Noctowl—landed on his outstretched arm. Wisps of darkness floated off the Flying-type.

“That bird, he’s a shadow pokemon,” Rui said.

Luna exhaled through her nostrils. “So. The Brotherhood and whoever’s making the shadow pokemon—they _are_ in cahoots.”

The man had two people behind him who looked like common thugs—probably muscle he’d hired from here in town. They all released their pokemon—a Sandslash from the Brotherhood member, and six others from the thugs.

“I’ve got the small fry,” Vulcana said, eying the six assorted pokemon. “You all handle the leader and his two pokemon.”

Luna shot an exasperated look at Vulcana. “You _really_ think you can take six pokemon all on your—”

The Quilava’s back flared and winding, sinuous ropes of fire shot from the flames. They wound like snakes, each one striking a surprised pokemon, and before anyone could react, she was already racing towards them, power gathering around her like a star.

“…okay then.”

The Brotherhood member staggered back, narrowly avoiding getting scorched as she shot past him, and then snarled at Rui. “Give back the machine!” His two pokemon lunged at her.

“Tama,” Rui commanded, “handle the Sandslash. Cap and Luna—you’re on the Noctowl!”

They exploded into action, Tama lunging at the Sandslash. He ignored a long cut along his shoulder and smashed a fist into the Ground-type’s face. There was the sound of bone breaking and the pokemon staggered back, only to be knocked over by Tama, who leapt on him and began pummeling. The wisps surrounding him were surging forward, as they tended to do in combat. “Don’t kill him!” Rui reminded him. “Tama—remember! We don’t kill!”

Meanwhile the Noctowl was spreading his wings wide, psychic energy gathering underneath them—but then Luna was there. His attack glazed harmlessly off her side as she smashed into him. He tried to spiral up out of her reach, but a pinpoint blast of psychic power from Cap knocked him out of the sky. He eyed Cap, a decidedly un-avian hissing sound emanating from his beak as darkness spiked off of him as well, a reflection of Tama’s condition. Succumbing to animalistic fury, the Noctowl lunged at Cap, talons outstretched.

Luna leapt in front, taking the blow, and he pinned her to the ground, ripping at her with his talons and buffeting her with his wings, snarling like he didn’t care who or what he hurt.

He didn’t hear Cap’s plea to his sister for her to hold on, or see the massive spike of energy collecting around his jewel. Cap unleashed the blow, sending the Noctowl flying. The Flying-type skidded over the ground and struggled to his feet, though a normal pokemon would have fainted at that.

“Forgive me,” Rui said, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Aura.

There was a new sensation—a terrible, shining, almost overwhelming presence from somewhere close by. It threatened to overwhelm her before abruptly vanishing. As she rocked from the momentary but mighty presence, she noticed the Noctowl. The dark aura surrounded him like chains, draped off of him, and underneath his howls of battle was the sense of a desperate pokemon wailing with loss.

She stared at the aura and received impressions of a whole team captured, of only the Noctowl being deemed worthy of being a shadow pokemon. They made him beg for his friends’s lives, and then, while he’d watched, they’d killed them anyway.

Rui forced herself out of Aura, tears streaming down her face. “It’s not your fault,” she called out to the Noctowl, who looked at her in shock. “I’m sorry what happened to you, but you couldn’t have saved them. It wasn’t your fault.”

The Noctowl blinked. “What am I…” The wisps of darkness off of him slowed. He trembled, looking at Luna, who was still cringing and hurt from his assault. “What did I… what did they _do_ to me…?”

She readied the Snag Machine. “You know what this is,” she said. His eyes fixated on her. “You don’t have to be with the ones who hurt you anymore. I can’t bring back your friends… but I want to help you.”

“…please,” he moaned.

She nodded and cast the ball. He went in without fighting. And soon enough, he was hers.

Cap, looking shaken, was helping Luna to her feet. Tama had beaten the Sandslash, but sported a number of scratches and bruises.

Further back, all six of the ruffian pokemon were in a heap, whimpering, and their trainers had bolted. Vulcana trotted up, completely untouched, and cast a critical, bemused eye over the others. “I see we have some room for improvement,” she said primly. Luna growled at her, and Vulcana’s eyes narrowed. A single wisp of darkness trailed up.

The Brotherhood member was trying to make an escape, but psychic light enveloped him and brought him back. Rui crossed her arms, scowling at him.

“How did you get a pokemon like that,” she said. He spat at her, the saliva just falling short of reaching her. “Talk!”

“Bitch! Shoulda gotten killed with your friend back in Phenac!”

Before she even realized what she was doing, she swung at him—while still wearing the Snag Machine. The reverberation from the blow made her arm shiver, and he reeled as best he could while still in a psychic cage. He hacked, the saliva tinged red, and tears sprang to his eyes.

“Do not,” Rui said softly, “talk about him that way.” She got close, close enough to smell him, and he shrank away. She squatted down to look at him on his level. “Now. Where did you get the pokemon.”

“We get ‘em from the same people Miror B and his thugs do,” the guy said. There was already an ugly bruise staining his cheek. Rui suspected it would only get worse by the time the day was done. “Don’t know who that is, Revy does most of the dealings now…”

Revy. Rui had almost forgotten about her.

“Miror B’s the crime boss here in town,” Rui said, repeating what she remembered from Wes and Thoreau. “So there’s someone else in the region besides the Brotherhood and him?”

“Yeah,” the guy said. He spat again—down this time, away from her. It was redder than before. “We gave them the lion’s share of our Snagged pokemon, and Miror B gives them big cuts of what he makes here. In exchange, we’re given these shadow pokemon. Gonzap mostly kept them under wraps—gave them to his insiders, and kept them for himself—but Revy’s being far more generous.”

“Sounds like an even compromise,” Rui noted.

“I wish,” the man said resentfully. “I didn’t know till after the base went, but we were beholden to them the whole time. It was never a fair deal. I thought we were bad, but we were a mutt on someone else’s leash the whole time.”

“How do I find Miror B?”

The man barked out a laugh. “Find _him?_ Sweetheart, you just hang tight and he’ll come for you sooner or later. If I knew you were here, he sure as hell does by now. He’s not actively hunting you like we are, but you kick him, expect to get kicked back. Though most of his goons hang out at the colosseum.”

Rui nodded at Cap. “Release him.”

Cap unceremoniously dropped the guy into the dirt. He staggered to his feet, gingerly touching his cheek and wincing. He glared angrily at Rui.

“Be glad I didn’t take your other pokemon,” she shot back. “And hit both cheeks.” She took a step forward and felt gratified when he flinched back.

“I’m not a killer,” she said. “But I’m collecting shadow pokemon, and they’re not always easy to control. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“You think you’re tough,” he sneered. “But we’re gonna be after you, you know. So long as you have that Snag Machine, and that asshole’s two pokemon, we’re coming after you. Doesn’t matter where you try to hide. We’ll follow and take you down.”

“Have you ever thought,” she replied, “that by chasing me no matter what, you’ve just given me reason to stand and fight?”

The criminal cursed at her staggered away. As he wandered, Vulcana’s fire flared up angrily. “It is foolish to let him escape,” she chided. “We should stop him.”

“How?” Rui challenged. “By killing him?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

Rui gave a start. “W-what?”

“It is the easiest solution, and the one which guarantees he will not attack again.”

“I’m not—no! I won’t let anyone do that!”

Vulcana shot her a contemptible look. “Your friend did not hesitate to kill, and for that, he dealt the Brotherhood a heavy blow. One hopes that taught you something.”

She nosed into the bag, letting herself into the poke ball as she usually did. The Fire-type came and went as she pleased.

“Rui?” Cap asked in a small voice. She turned to see him staring at her fist. She looked down—it was still clenched, and a few small bits of blood gleamed on the Snag Machine.

“Are you… okay?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t meant to hurt him that bad. But in the end, he still was capable of walking away. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time she’d attacked another human like that—she’d smashed the glass into Revy back in the bar, after all.

She wanted to say that it disgusted her how she’d somehow become a person who got her hands dirty. Who hurt others. Who made threats.

She wanted to say that. But actually… deep down, she felt… satisfied.


	10. Chapter 9

Creating a shadow pokemon is an intense and multi-stage process which is not easily explained to laymen, or indeed to anyone who lacks the proper grounding. In fact, even after several years of the subject, I myself do not fully understand all avenues of their creation.  
  
So naturally, of course, I’m expected to put together a report which “condenses information to its basics”.  
  
Some of my underlings refer to the process as the pokemon having the “door to their hearts shut (tight)”. Pretentious enough, I suppose, a descriptor for the basic concept: we emotionally destroy them until they cannot bear any more.  
  
How we do this varies a great deal from pokemon to pokemon. As no two people will react to trauma the same way, so must each pokemon’s suffering must be personalized. It is essential to think of the pokemon as individuals with unique tastes, ideas, desires, and hopes. Should you categorize them all as stupid animals, you make it that much harder to enact tailored torments. Mass beatings are good for general morale-lowering, but lack the special touch to truly infect despair.  
  
Most pokemon won’t easily surrender their greatest vulnerabilities, naturally, but we don’t need them to. Ghost-types plumb their nightmares, looking for their deepest fears, and commune with channeler-type psychics on staff. From there, our work commences.  
  
The specifics of what exactly we do to them are probably best left for a future report, but I’m proud to announce that by the time they’re ready for the next step, fewer than 30% of subjects have perished. At the start of our project, the mortality rate hovered around 65-70%; as you can see, we’ve greatly increased efficiency the more our experience grows.  
  
Of course, these personalized agonies are only the first step. After that, it’s time for step two.  
  
We call it the White Room.  
  
—Shadow Pokemon Lab  
Chief Ein  
  


\---

Pyrite’s Colosseum was on the far edge of town. It was easily the biggest building there—a towering half-globe of worn sheet metal, which had fallen off in places to reveal the enormous rusty girders that kept the whole thing from collapsing in on itself. Even from the outside, you could hear the tremendous din of the roaring crowds as pokemon battled ferociously inside. It was Pyrite’s premier source of entertainment.

Over Rui’s shoulder, one of her new acquisitions shrank back timidly. The Misdreavus—she’d named them “Striga”—wove back and forth, their spectral form hazy.

She tried not to be too uncomfortable around Striga, but it was difficult. Misdreavus were eerily human-like in appearance, what with their anthropomorphic faces, the red spheres that ringed their necks like jewelry, and a long body that suggested a dress as it flowed past. The numerous differences only accentuated the similarities, making a creature that looked like it had drifted straight out of the uncanny valley.

And all this was ignoring that Rui had seen, in the pokemon’s aura, echoes of an earlier life as a human being. There were whispers in Kanto, borne from the channelers, that this was true of most Ghost-types—but having it confirmed was deeply distressing.

“Don’t like this place,” Striga whispered, shrinking in near her ear. “Before I was given to my new trainer, I visited here.”

Rui nodded. It matched up with what she’d been told by the Brotherhood member yesterday.

“Argyle was trafficked through the Brotherhood,” she mused, naming her new Noctowl, “so he wouldn’t know. Tama? Vulcana? What about you?”

“Yeah,” the withdrawn Makuhita said. “Hazy, but…”

Vulcana meet Rui’s eyes, and then nodded slowly.

Rui exhaled through her nose. “Okay then.” She took stock of her pokemon—Luna was benched from her injuries, and Argyle was also in his ball; Rui didn’t want to deal with two volatile, recently-caught shadows at the same time. Four pokemon—Cap, Vulcana, Tama, and the timid Striga—would have to serve. Steeling herself, she nodded, and marched into the colosseum’s gates. She was in the lion’s den, now, and ready to bring the fight to them.

The enemy’s base… the nexus of the shadow pokemon operation…

…was a tacky gift shop.

Most of the wares were shoddy and overpriced, with scribbled pricetags that seemed far too inflated. Some of them weren’t even related to the colosseum at all: a tee for a years-old animated comedy film? A Hoennese soap opera water flask?

A few customers eyed her before scooting away. A scowling woman in a trenchcoat flanked by four battle-ready pokemon probably cut the sort of figure this place wasn’t ready for, even in as rough an area as Pyrite.

Trying not to deflate too much, Rui walked the halls. Sure, it was grungy, but it really did feel like a normal colosseum. Her pokemon, reading the situation, also looked ill at-ease; Tama and Vulcana seemed frustrated. Striga was so thin it was like they were trying to hide. Cap stifled a case of the giggles.

His tail swished back and forth as a friendly-looking male Granbull eyed him from around an aisle of merchandise and darted off, grinning. He looked up at Rui. “Can I play?”

Rui sighed. The tension was gone. There wasn’t going to be any fighting. “Alright, but don’t leave the store.” As he scampered after the Granbull, she squirmed guiltily under the gazes of the others. “Fine, the rest of you too.” Tama meandered away, and Vulcana trotted off primly.

Turning, she smiled reassuringly at Striga. “I’m guessing you want to stick around, though?” The little ghost nodded and ducked behind her shoulder. “Thanks,” she said, feeling more motherly than she felt. “I need a pokemon to protect me just in case.”

Rui marched up to the sales clerk, a disinterested-looking girl with stringy brown hair and a lot of eyeshadow. She was popping a big bubble from an oversized mouth of gum.

The clerk gave her a once-over, clearly unimpressed. “Can I help you?” she said in a tone which very clearly told Rui to piss off and die.

Rui opened her mouth and froze. She’d come here expecting a fight—what was she going to do? Tell the girl _‘Inform your boss I want to talk to him about pokemon trafficking’_?

The clerk eyed her with a truly virtuoso blend of amusement and undisguised contempt. Rui would have to practice it.

“I’d… like to sign up to battle. In the colosseum.”

The girl popped a bubble, sucked the gum back in her mouth, chewed loudly for several seconds, and popped it again. Her eyes focused on the cringing Striga before drifting over to a nearby aisle. “Well, your pokemon do seem like real hellraisers,” she drawled.

Rui followed her eyes. Cap and the Granbull were tumbling over each other in a play-tussle that barely counted as a fight, both of them laughing.

Despite the shopkeep’s attitude, Rui couldn’t hold it against the little guy. Cap had been withdrawn and quiet ever since Wes’s death—it was nice to see him active and happy again. He and the bulldog pokemon had stopped their play-fight and were nuzzling, Cap purring loudly enough for Rui to hear it from where she stood. He had a small smile on his face.

 _Luna wasn’t kidding,_ Rui thought wryly, _when she told me her brother was gayer than Kalos in the springtime._

She didn’t bother to hide her smile as she watched, and she cheered inwardly when the clerk seemed displeased. “Even so,” Rui said, reaching up a hand to ‘comfort’ Striga—it passed right through them, but the little ghost seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. “I’d like to sign up.”

Groaning, the clerk pulled out a clipboard. “Fine then,” she said. “Out-of-region contestants need to be certified battlers—two badges minimum for Kanto,” she said, pointedly looking at Rui’s eyes, “or any other region with the Gym system. Alternately, an equal level of achievement with a reputable battling league also works. If you’re Alolan—“ and here an amused lilt rang to her voice, “—that’s the equivalent of passing at least one trial with the kahooters or whatever.”

“And what if I’m native?” Rui said, inwardly cursing the fact her only pokemon until recently had been an Aipom who most would put 50/50 odds on between against a Feebas. The only time Rui had visited a Gym had been to hurl anti-psychic rhetoric at Sabrina with a few schoolmates.

The woman stared at her for a few long seconds. “Then you would tell me your city of origin and we would check your reputation in that city,” she said, enunciating almost every syllable. “Course, if you were from _Pyrite_ or thereabouts, then we’d already know you.”

No point in lying that she was from Agate, then, or listing Ximena’s address as her own. “Fine then,” she said. “I’ll watch a match.”

With an air of tired victory, the clerk waved Rui to a doorway in the shop’s back wall. Rui cast her eyes about—Cap was still playing with the Granbull, and nearby Tama was emulating him, shoving a plastic statue of a pokemon and then standing there, staring, as if waiting for a counterattack. Vulcana was looking out the door, and when Rui reminded her not to leave the shop, she twitched an ear in irritation. Rui shook her head and walked out the back door.

It led to a high balcony overlooking the arena. On the floor—which, she realized, was nothing but unadorned dirt—four pokemon battled. It would still take some getting used to the fact that most pokemon battles in Orre were double battles.

The fight was vicious, and Rui found herself wincing as one of the attackers, an Ursaring, landed a particularly nasty blow on his opponent, a Gloom. The Gloom’s trainer hastily recalled the injured pokemon. She knew that fights could sometimes get gruesome, even in places like Gyms (Saffron had a death every year or so) but Orre had a casual brutality to common, _sanctioned_ battles that still made her pause. Of course, Orre had no Pokemon League, or even a government beyond a consensus that the region would band together against outside aggression, so there was no real body to enforce any rules…

She considered opening herself to Aura, but decided against it. Doing it around so many people might overwhelm her—who knows what she might see?—and while the battling pokemon were violent, there was no streamer of darkness rising from any of them. If they were shadow pokemon, she was certain it would come out in combat.

Striga appeared in her peripheral vision, and she fought to keep from jumping. “What’s wrong?” the Ghost-type asked.

“I just thought that I’d come here, fight Miror B’s goons, and get some answers,” Rui said. “Instead, it seems like they come here because… well, because _everyone_ in Pyrite comes here.” As if to underscore her point, the Gloom trainer’s second pokemon was knocked out, and the whole stadium erupted into a massive, deafening roar. She winced. “I’m back to where I started. What do I do—wander town looking for shadows to snag, while the Brotherhood or Miror B or _whoever_ hunts me down from the darkness?”

“I know you basically just stumbled into me,” Striga said after a moment, “but I’m glad you helped me.”

“Me too, Striga,” she told them. “Are you feeling okay?”

They trembled. “I… I’m really scared. Normally I’m like this, but after they did the bad stuff to me, I get mad or upset and then just _explode_ … I can barely control myself. What if Cap plays a prank? Or—or I see you get hurt, and then the next thing I know, I’ve just made everything worse?”

“We’re gonna fix you,” Rui said. It was the first time she really realized that she had to. The shadow pokemon couldn’t be like this forever—there had to be a way to save them! But she had no idea how. She shook her head. She’d made up her mind, but now she had no idea how to _do_ it.

As the next match started, she realized she had no desire to watch pokemon flagellate each other. She retreated in.

Cap was pouting (it appeared the Granbull’s trainer had left, taking their pokemon), and the other pokemon were milling around. Tama was still staring down the plastic pokemon, and was somehow trembling from exertion. Apparently staring contests were Big Deals to Fighting-types.

Seeing the stuff around, Rui had an idea. She browsed the aisles, picking up a few things, eying them all. Bringing them to the clerk, she was rung up with an air of practiced long-suffering that only comes from working in retail.

Finally, gathering the pokemon around, she took her shopping bag. “I got some stuff for everyone,” she said, smiling. She released Luna, and then Argyle, the Noctowl looking slightly guilty at how banged up the other pokemon was. She dipped into her bag and pulled out a pokemon treat, reaching over her shoulder to give it to Striga. The Ghost-type nibbled on it happily while the others crowded around, their eyes wide. (Well, Vulcana looked disinterested, but Rui was certain she wouldn’t turn down a treat of her own.)

She passed one out to Luna, then to Argyle, then Tama. Each treat was catered to the pokemon’s typing. Vulcana sniffed at hers and broke off a few bites, but Rui saw her eyes widen—just a bit.

Only one pokemon was left waiting. Cap’s two-pronged tail swished back and forth with anticipation.

“Cap,” Rui said with faux regret, “I’m afraid I didn’t get you something to snack on.”

The poor thing looked crestfallen. “Wh—b-but—”

“Instead,” Rui said, holding up a finger to shush him, “I walked down the clothing aisle… and found this.”

The last item in the shopping bag was a years-old, slightly faded baseball cap with a cartoon character on it. Cap’s ears shot straight up. “I-i-is that…”

“Yeah,” Rui replied, grinning. “Captain Justice.” She settled it on his head. “A cap for Cap.”

He levitated it off his head, looking at it with awe, and then pounced her, nuzzling affectionately. “I’ve never had—oh my gosh— _th-thanks—_ ” He was both laughing and crying, and Rui held him close, a warm smile playing about on her face. The pokemon around her were eating their treats, or watching her cuddle Cap, and all of them seemed at peace. _I don’t know how to fix the shadows,_ she thought, _but this could be a nice start. Treat them like ordinary pokemon, not like monsters, and they’ll grow into it._ Tama settled back, patting his stomach satisfactorily, and Argyle, abashed, was stammering out an apology to Luna. _Give them chances. They need them.  
_  
When she was done, she winked at the shopkeeper (who had been glowering at them for a good fifteen minutes) just for the hell of it, and then headed outside. Standing at the dusty entrance was a lean man in his mid-twenties with silver-blonde hair.

“Miss Matsuhara?” he asked.

“Who’s asking?” she replied, immediately on guard.

He proffered an envelope. “I was asked to give this to you.”

Warily, she took it, gazing at the material on the front:

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE MAYOR

\---

If you had told Luna this morning that she would be spending the evening at the mayor’s estate… well, she _might_ have believed you, given how crazy her life had been lately. But it still wouldn’t have been something she’d have put money on.

Pyrite being Pyrite, of course, the “mayor’s estate” looked like nothing more than a converted factory, complete with smokestacks. The outside was painted an eye-searing mustard color. The inside was nice enough, she supposed, though the long hallways and incredibly spacious rooms didn’t make it feel like a place where people or pokemon actually lived.

Rui was still talking with the mayor, Duking. The fellow looked more like a star for some station that aired shows about short people (they’re short! that’s the show!) or washed-up lifeguards (geddit?) than the nominal head of one of Orre’s biggest cities. Of course, everyone knew that _crime_ ran Pyrite, but still. Duking was an almost absurdly muscled man, so big that he had to squeeze his way through doors, and his broad nose sat over a moustache that was about four decades out of style. Worst of all was his hat—a peaked affair you saw in moved about heroes who shot arrows. The “noble bandit” types or the ones who shot Mago Berries off the heads of their pokemon. It even had a jaunty little feather in it.

If he wanted to ally with them against Miror B and stop the shadow pokemon, then maybe Luna could forgive him for it. Maybe. Possibly.

Luna had followed the conversation for as long as she could. Duking wanted to bring the fight to Miror B, but was powerless to do so. Anyone in town remotely capable was either on his payroll, or cowed into submission. “I’m a terrible trainer myself,” the mayor had admitted, “which is probably why he allowed me to be elected in the first place.” There was a police force, but it was understaffed and probably a good third worked for Miror B anyway.

“And then you came along,” Duking said, “Snagging these violent pokemon and humiliating a Brotherhood enforcer. Your name’s gotten a lot of traction lately, and Miror B’s going to be watching out for you.”

The idea sounded promising. Luna had tried to listen, but she was too achy from the battle with Argyle yesterday. Rui wasn’t like other trainers—she consulted them first. Luna trusted her to do the right thing.

There was a big, empty room in the back of the estate that the pokemon had commandeered, and she entered, seeing Cap pounce on Tama. Luna couldn’t help but smile. Tama _was_ getting better—he only occasionally had to be reminded not to brutalize things in combat, and he didn’t immediately tense up whenever Rui or another pokemon approached him. Sometimes, when Cap reached out to him, he even cracked a smile.

…Cap. Her doofy brother had hidden his cap away, and when she’d teased him about it, he’d insisted that despite being the “ultimate badass,” even he couldn’t guarantee the cap wouldn’t get “a little bit scuffed up”—which was unacceptable because “a hero is never tarnished.”

Let him have his fun. Growing up, they’d been dirt poor on the streets of Phenac and then, as Brotherhood, there wasn’t a lot of space for personal flourishes, especially for pokemon. It was okay if he wanted to safeguard his gift.

From across the room, Argyle glanced up, saw her looking, and shot his head down again. Luna still winced from his attack when she walked, but he’d apologized and she’d grudgingly accepted it. According to him, there were periods where he shut off, almost as if he was dreaming. And when he ‘woke up’ from the dreams, he remembered doing the most terrible things…

It was different from how it worked for the other shadow pokemon, but it made sense that they were all unique. Tama was emotionally sedate until he suddenly (and dangerously) wasn’t; Striga, by their own admission, could explode when provoked.

And Vulcana…

She refused to share anything about herself.

“Bitch,” Luna muttered.

Everything about her was intolerable. She was aloof, standoffish, and she refused to open up about anything. Any attempt (even from Rui, her trainer!) was met with cool condescension. And unlike all the other shadow pokemon, she had never apologized for the injuries she’d inflicted on the party.

As though Luna’s hostility was a magnet for her, Vulcana trotted over. Luna managed to stop herself from throwing up. Just barely.

“What did those two humans decide?” she demanded. “Will we be moving against the shadow pokemon?”

Luna chuffed. All business—the front Vulcana put on whenever she wasn’t ordering anyone around.

“They were still talking,” Luna said.

Vulcana shook her head. “How aimless that girl is.”

“You know,” Luna said, “maybe she could have direction if she had more information. Like, for instance, who your ‘master’ is and why they attacked us outside Phenac.”

“I have told you,” Vulcana cut back, “asking again won’t get you anywhere.”

“You’re right,” Luna said. “Maybe I just did it to piss you off.”

Vulcana’s embers burned—just a little bit. “I am due far more respect than you show me,” she said softly.

“Respect is something you _earn,_ ” Luna replied. “Not demand. No one is ‘due’ any of it.”

“No one? No one at all?”

“Nope.”

“So even if Groudon herself were to rise from the earth before you, she’d have to do something to earn your respect, hmm?”

Luna knew what she was doing. Get her to backpedal, even a little bit, and then unravel the whole thing. Well, not today. “If Groudon rose right in front of me,” Luna drawled, “I’m probably getting drowned in lava and watching my region get suddenly torched. So no… probably not.”

Vulcana just stared at her for a long moment, nostrils flaring. Luna couldn’t help but feel a little snug. _Oops, your little rhetorical trap didn’t work. Sucks to be you, Vulcana._

 __“…so you even spit on deity,” Vulcana said after a moment. “It should have been expected, I suppose.”

 _And now she’s trying to take the sanctimonious high ground. Not today._ “You know,” Luna said, “pokemon don’t tend to be forgiving of those who, I dunno, rip continents apart by existing.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or who beat up them and their brother and never seem to even feel sorry.”

“…so that’s what this is about. You juvenile—”

Their spat was interrupted by the door opening. Rui rushed inside. Vulcana shot Luna a look that very much read _this isn’t over._

 __Good. She didn’t want it to be.

Rui explained the situation. “The mayor will put us up and finance us,” she said. “And with his clout, most people in town won’t bug us like they did with the motels, unless it’s Miror B or his direct circle… which we kind of want anyway, so we can shut down the operation.”

“Nothing comes free,” Vulcana interjected. “What’s the cost?”

Rui smiled. “Duking has contacts of his own on the street—they have reasonable ideas on where shadow pokemon might be. He wants us to get these dangerous pokemon off the streets.” She sat back, pleased. “That was what we were going to be doing anyway. And if we make enough trouble, Miror B is going to be forced to make a move. Duking’s goal is to force Miror B’s hand by knocking down his street-level toughs and make him take risks. If he overextends himself, Sherles—the police chief—can arrest him, even despite the issues in the department.”

“It sounds risky,” Luna said. “You’re taking all the risks, and we have to trust this Duking, trust his informants, trust the police… I don’t like this.”

Rui rubbed the side of her head. “I talked to Thoreau after getting that envelope. Duking has absolutely no connection to the Brotherhood at all. I managed to get a hold of my grandpa, too.” She grimaced. “He wasn’t happy that I’m several weeks late from coming to Agate, but once I filled him in, he was willing to help. He’s… the mayor of Agate.” Now _there_ was a tidbit. “He says that we can trust Duking. He has a reputation as an honest man who wants to bring the fight to Miror B. Plus, the two of them will let me keep any extra captured pokemon with them.”

Even Orre, with no League, had to implement the six pokemon rule, largely as a result of Kanto applying pressure to them in retaliation for Orresian support of the failed Johto rebellion. The world could suck, sometimes.

“It still seems dangerous,” Luna said. “Couldn’t we get a _firmer_ plan?”

“Cap, what do you think?” Rui prompted. “Does this sound like a good way to do some justice?”

“Well, I _am_ the expert on justice,” he said, standing tall. “So I’ll say yes.”

“And Tama, you’re the one who wanted to come to Pyrite, right?”

The Makuhita nodded. “Need to stop it,” he mumbled, clenching and unclenching his hands.

Striga and Argyle, two newcomers, simply nodded, going along with it. Vulcana looked over, met Luna’s eyes, and nodded. Revenge, perhaps, for their spat?

Luna sighed. She knew when she was beaten. “Alright,” she said. “When do we do it?”

“Tomorrow,” said Rui. “We start tomorrow.”


	11. Chapter 10

We owe many thanks to the Aueritek Empire, and not merely for lending their name to this region. Though they are long vanished, slain by their own vassals before the pale Unovans ever arrived on Orresian shores, their legacy remains—and the region struggles to claw out of their shadow.

 

Precious few Aueritek ruins remain intact, due to said vassals doing their best to sunder them. We know that our ancestors were fearful and superstitious folk; it is right, we think with our enlightened modernity, that the Unovans mocked the stories they heard of the Aueriteks summoning vicious demons to bring ruination upon their rebellious slaves, of the desolation their last stand brought the empire. Surely such tales are merely the exaggerations of our ancestors’ tormentors, another reflection of how the Aueriteks have become our bogeymen.

 

Yet, as I said, we owe them many thanks.

 

As some of you have already guessed, we are not the first ones to create shadow pokemon. They were here, long before; the ancient attack dogs of a bloodthirsty empire. Who knows how or where the Aueriteks discovered the means of their creation, but they had mastered it by the end. We are still attempting to plumb the virtuosity with which the empire created shadow pokemon.

 

Indeed, were it not for the intact Aueritek ruins over which this lab was built, we would have no way of manufacturing them ourselves. Some question how I sleep, knowing a subterranean warren replete with blood-soaked altars and blasphemous images lurches beneath my feet. My answer: I sleep quite well.

 

After all, it is not _I_ who goes down there. That’s what we have pokemon for.

 

—Shadow Pokemon Lab

Chief Ein

  
  
  


\---

 

 

 

When Argyle blinked awake, he realized that his body was peppered with aches and bruises that had not been there when he’d fallen asleep. Nor did he recognize the room as the one he’d fallen asleep in.

 

His feathers trembled, and an icy feeling raked his heart. _Oh Arceus. It happened again_.

 

Ever since his captivity, the Noctowl had tried to fight off what they had done to him. But the truth of it was, he had no control. His time in captivity had been a nightmare—a dream within a dream punctured by brief moments of terrible vividness, like the loss of his old team…

 

And at the end, they’d dragged him into a womb of earth and stone, and tossed him in a chamber that had gnawed with fangs that weren’t there and murmured with whispers that were beyond his ken.

 

When he’d emerged, days later, he was as he was now.

 

They called him a shadow pokemon.

 

It affected everyone differently. For Argyle, it was like there was a beast slumbering inside of him. Sometimes the beast woke up, and when it did, Argyle himself was subsumed. He barely remembered what happened when he became that way.

 

He’d done bad things when he was the beast.

 

His heart was hammering away in his chest, racing like Thundurus through a storm. This was always the worst part—waking up after. What had he done? Who would tell him?

 

The room was little more than a metal-lined storage space with a few bedrolls, one of the many empty and underwhelming rooms in the mayor’s so-called “estate.” There was only one other individual present.

 

“…Tama, right?” Argyle offered tentatively. The Makuhita blinked back at him and said nothing. Gods, but the little thing could be creepy sometime. He was a shadow pokemon too, but unlike Argyle, Tama seemed… off, somehow. Argyle didn’t like being around him.

 

_But then,_ he thought ruefully, _I doubt the others like being around me either._

 

“Hey,” Argyle said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too fake-casual and knowing deep down that it totally did. “I, uh… notice I’m not with the others today.” His mouth felt dry. Just ask. Just ask. Rip the bandage off. Just get it _over_ with. “There a… reason… for that?”

 

Tama stared at him, blinking a few times. “You were odd yesterday,” he replied. “We were fighting. You didn’t want to stop. Yelled at Rui when she reprimanded you.”

 

Argyle breathed in and out again. “…did I hurt anyone?”

 

Tama, who had been sitting squat against the floor, stood. “You wanted to. Vulcana knocked you out.”

 

Okay. Okay. It could have been worse. It could have been…

 

Argyle shuddered. A relatively recent memory: waking up with blood on his talons, coating his beak—and his teammates, themselves the pokemon of criminals, looking at him with fear and disgust. The beast had reigned free that day, and he hated himself. Arceus. He didn’t want…

 

Tama’s hand, gentle yet firm, rested on his shoulder. He flinched and looked up. He hadn’t realized just how intensely he’d been shaking.

 

“We are not weapons,” Tama said, his words low. “They can help us.” His voice was flat but, Argyle realized, not un-emotive—there was something under there, desperate to get out. _Just like me,_ he thought.

 

Argyle looked Tama in the eye and saw a friend looking back. Perhaps he didn’t mind spending time with him after all.

 

After calming himself, Argyle allowed himself to be pulled up by Tama. “Come on,” the Fighting-type intoned. They meandered through the estate, the cold and heartless metal giving way to places with carpets, painted walls, warm colors. A place where people lived.

 

Pushing open a door, Tama led him to the lush room where they were staying—Rui’s was next door. The Espeon was bouncing around excitedly, regaling the Ghost-type, Striga, with some tale. The Umbreon and the Quilava, on opposite sides of the room because they either wanted to sleep together or rip each other’s throats out (Argyle wasn’t yet sure which), watched with the same breed of detached amusement.

 

All eyes turned to him when he walked in and he felt a flicker of fear, and, more disturbingly, a tiny rumble of the beast. But it went away without causing a ruckus.

 

The moment held and then Cap skipped over to him with a big grin. “You’re back!” he said, and Argyle wasn’t certain if he meant back from being awake, or back to normal. “Just in time! I was telling everyone a story about my Uncle Orange.”

 

“Uncle… Orange?” Argyle asked politely.

 

Cap’s face lit up like a sparkler. “Oh! He’s my uncle, he’s the best, he’s a _Flareon_ —he taught Luna and I so much!” He launched into a ramble about how Uncle Orange had taught them the value of thrift by beating up nine million Salamence or something. Argyle settled back for the long haul.

 

Striga met his eyes and smiled in greeting. It was hard to read the other newcomer, but Argyle thought they were a good pokemon. Luna, whom he had badly attacked before joining Rui’s team, met his gaze from across the room. Argyle held his breath; she was the closest thing to a leader the pokemon had. She held gazes and then nodded once.

 

It was like someone had pulled a thorn, one he had not been aware was even there. Argyle exhaled. Vulcana didn’t look at him like a friend, but nor did she act like he was an enemy. Cap was friends with everybody. And Tama settled down to listen to Cap’s story, his weight comfortably near Argyle, and for the first time since he had been taken to the terrible laboratory with the yearning darkness beneath it, he felt at peace.

 

No one was afraid of him. They didn’t see the beast. They saw him, Argyle.

 

The beast rumbled within his chest and he swatted it away. He could make this work. He could.

 

He was with friends.

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

There was a new battler making waves in the ruthless streets of Pyrite Town, cleaning up would-be toughs and sending punks running. And her name was Rui Matsuhara.

 

She’d been working with Duking almost a week, now, and her team had melded into comfortable synergy. Sure, she had to watch Tama, Striga, and Argyle—each of them could suddenly turn vicious, and in different ways, but they were improving. Vulcana and Luna also barely tolerated each other. But her team was powerful, and they functioned well together—Cap and Tama on offense, Luna and Argyle on defense, Striga providing support, and Vulcana as a general “I win” button she could throw at anything that wasn’t a horde of Water or Ground-type pokemon.

 

And even then, sometimes Rui wondered…

 

Being the mayor’s operative had its own perks. She was no longer bilked or kicked around, and incidents like what had happened at the motels were things of the past. She’d grown quite proficient in thrashing the few pokemon owned by tiny gangs or loutish thugs who thought a Kantonian girl an easy victim. It wasn’t until a few days in that she truly realized just how rare pokemon were in Orre. Even dedicated trainers or gang enforcers only had one or two. Having three or more was a major status symbol. And here she was strutting around with six.

 

A full team was uncommon in Kanto, but not head-turning, and any battler worth their salt was expected to carry at least three. One pokemon was generally a sign of the pokemon being a domestic companion, not a battler. _Describes me and Pompom perfectly,_ Rui thought, thinking wistfully of the pokemon she’d lost. She’d find her one day…

 

But now she couldn’t help but feel she was spinning her wheels. She’d encountered no shadow pokemon since that first day with Argyle and Striga.

 

She tried not to let frustration guide her. Miror B was undoubtedly moving his pawns about, having them avoid her; it was the only explanation, especially as she kept hearing rumbles on the street about “vicious pokemon.” She needed some way to draw his attention, get him to send men at her.

 

But for now, she walked confidently between grimy stalls with corrugated steel serving as makeshift roofs, Luna prowling confidently alongside her and her canvas duster flapping in the wind. The last few days, voices carried after her. The unpleasant ones called her nasty things in native Orresian— _la puta_ was a favorite, and she could guess its approximate meaning—as were jabs at slanted eyes. She let them slide over her. But the ones she cared about were the hushed whispers, the people who dared to wonder who this mysterious girl was and why she seemed to want a fight with Miror B.

 

She spun the corner leading to an out-of-the-way back lot that was little more than a dingy square overlooked by a few boarded-up windows. The place was a favorite haunt of disaffected young men to try out their battle skills in sometimes bloody struggles, and Miror B was known to scope out henchman from the place. A report of a vicious pokemon that had disobeyed its trainer and nearly killed its opponent had surfaced a few days ago.

 

Rui knew what to expect from the lot. By the time she arrived, any of Miror B’s major enforcers would have already melted away, and all that would be left to do would be to fight any of the kids who showed up to scrap with her.

 

She shook her head. Tiresome. How very—

 

She emerged from the alley into the lot and froze. The same blonde hair. The same muscles. Shades. Beanies. Her abductors were waiting for her.

 

Despite seeing them slink away from their own pokemon—despite the thrashing they’d been given by Wes and Thoreau and, yes, even her—despite coming face-to-face with any number of dangerous criminals in the last few days… at the sight of them, some part of her wanted to curl up and scream.

 

Luna immediately crossed in front of her, a growl ripping from her mouth. Rui heard it as a warning to back away.

 

The two men wore diseased smiles. Before, when abducting her or at the encounter at the Outskirt Stand, their faces had seemed more or less smug and predatory. The confidence was gone now, replaced with a humorless aggression. Their smiles were the teeth-bearing rictuses of cornered animals.

 

It struck Rui that a man like Miror B would not be appreciative of repeat failures.

 

The one with the beanie, Trudly, directed his toothy expression at her. “Heya, chickadee.”

 

She wanted to say something pithy. She wanted to put them in their place. She wanted to stand strong and show them how she was unafraid. To order her pokemon out for the attack. Instead, something in her chest, something she’d been too afraid to ask about last time, clawed its way out.

 

“Where,” she snarled, “is my _Aipom._ ”

 

The glasses-wearing one, Folly, blinked, and his mouth tightened even more, if that was possible. “Aw hell, girlie, you actually give a shit about that little monkey? Mew above, she was so weak, she was basically useless.”

 

“Not totally useless. My _Persian_ sure gave a shit about her,” Trudly said with a dry smirk. “‘Member that, Folly? ‘Course, that was before chickadee’s friend with the dreads did him in…”

 

The lot would be too cramped for her whole team to operate. With a flash, she released Vulcana to fight alongside Luna, as well as the airborne Argyle and Striga. It would have to do. “I’m not gonna ask you again,” said Rui, hate bubbling within her. They’d abducted her. They’d taken Pompom. They’d _hurt_ Pompom. “Where. Is she.”

 

Something in her voice seemed to give them pause. She was no longer the easy prey they’d known her as. “Traded her away,” Trudly said. “We wanted a shadow pokemon each to take you out but boss only gave us one. So I went to his supplier and gave them the monkey for this one.” With a flash he released a towering yellow figure—an Ampharos. The pokemon was tall and proud, and electricity crackled around her as she growled. Streams of darkness shot off of her like rockets, a detail that seemed all-too-real to Rui, even as she knew she was the only one who could perceive it. “Maybe,” Trudly said, “they can make your Aipom be something more than just a playtoy for _real_ pokemon.” Every word, she realized, was calculated to hurt her. She saw the ferocity gleaming in his eyes. He wanted to push her buttons.

 

Well, it was working.

 

“That’s assuming the bratty little thing lives at all,” Folly said. “They don’t have the best survival rate…” With a flash he released his own shadow pokemon—a flat-faced, solid-looking Quagsire.

 

Mechanically, Rui reached up to the pauldron on her shoulder and switched it on. The Snag Machine unfurled, coating her arm in metal.

 

A low whistle emerged from Folly’s lips. “And there it is. If we bring that back to the boss, dude’ll forgive us.”

 

“He wants that machine real bad,” Trudly purred, eying her hungrily. There was something _he_ wanted, too. He kept curling and uncurling his fingers, rubbing them against the palms of the same hands. Rui remembered those palms on her bare flesh when they’d stripped her, the way he’d leered at her while tossing her in the trunk, and felt a dual urge to be sick and smash his nose in.

 

“Kill the pokemon and paralyze the girl,” Trudly ordered. “And do it quick.”

 

“Luna and Argyle, on the Quagsire,” Rui commanded. “Vulcana and Striga, the Ampharos. Let’s go.”

 

The tension hanging through the lot snapped like a wound cord as the pokemon exploded into action.

 

Vulcana raced the Ampharos, coating herself in fire. Before she could connect, the Electric type narrowed her eyes, and the feeling of the air changed. Rui’s whole body felt like it did the moment before she received a static shock. But Vulcana gasped and stumbled, the flames fizzling out.  Her body shook with paralysis.

 

The Ampharos’s tail glowed a vivid crimson, electricity sparking out of it. She turned, smashing it into Vulcana, and the Quilava was sent skipping across the ground into a concrete wall.

 

The Ampharos’s triumph didn’t last long. Striga materialized out of the air, the baubles around their neck suddenly oscillating colors. The Electric-type staggered back, her eyes unfocusing, and Striga launched a shadowy attack at her. The attack landed, but also shook her out of her reverie. The shadows around the Ampharos spiked and she roared with fury, launching lightning at the Ghost-type. It lanced Striga, who spiraled down, fading away once again.

 

Before the Ampharos could hunt for them, a fireball smashed into the side of her head. She turned to find Vulcana regaining her feet. “You should still be paralyzed!” she said, her voice laced with rage.

 

“I’m afraid I’ve fought stronger Electric-types than you,” Vulcana returned. She rushed back into the fray, fangs bared.

 

“Look, the girlie grew some guts,” Folly taunted from across the lot. “She’s actually putting up a fight this time—that’s new. Remember last time? She didn’t even send out her Aipom. We just grabbed her and that was that.”

 

The thought of her ambush on the darkened streets of eastern Orre returned, more vivid than ever. Rui’s nails dug into her palms, so sharp she thought she would bleed.

 

“As if stealing your dead friend’s coat and pokemon make you tough,” Trudly added. “You didn’t earn any of this shit.”

 

_Don’t rise to their taunts. Focus on the battle. Give your pokemon direction._ “Remember the aim is to Snag the shadows,” she said. “Get them weak, but not too weak!”

 

Luna and Argyle were having trouble with the Quagsire. His bulky hide was more than a match for their attacks. When Luna darted in he smashed her with a punishing tail blow or headbutt, and Argyle couldn’t get close for fear of being shot down by water attacks.

 

_He’s too bulky,_ Rui realized. _We won’t be able to take him down like that. Luna’s also bulky and can shrug off attacks, but where she struggles is…_

 

“Argyle, Hypnosis!” she commanded. The Noctowl replied with a caw—she heard it as “got it, boss”—and swooped in as low as he dared, spreading his wings wide. The air between them shimmered with mirages, and the water attack the Quagsire had been preparing died on his lips. Luna took the opportunity to leap on his back, scrabbling with her claws, and Argyle dived in close, scraping with his talons. Finally, real damage was being done.

 

But the shadows rising off the Quagsire bloomed, and with a roar, he fought through the hypnosis to smash his skull into Argyle’s face. The Noctowl staggered back, and the Quagsire followed through with a punishing jet of water that sent him skidding across the lot. Ignoring the violent scratches and bites Luna was inflicting on him, he jerked his head forward. The sudden motion threw Luna off of him with a wail, and she barely had time to crash into the ground in front of him before he whirled. His massive tail smacked her, sending her careening, and she smashed right into Argyle, who was struggling up. When Rui’s two pokemon fell in a heap, Luna rose—but Argyle kicked and then collapsed, exhausted to the point of fainting.

 

“The bird’s down! Kill it!” Folly commanded.

 

Panic spiked within her. “Luna, protect him!”

 

Luna charged her foe, darkness—not the sinister aura of a shadow pokemon, but true Dark-type energy—trailing from her maw. She clashed with the Quagsire with renewed ferocity, but Rui knew a losing battle when she saw one. Fumbling for Argyle’s ball to recall him, she wondered if she was in over her head. She’d never had to fight two shadows at once.

 

Meanwhile, the Ampharos was roaring and sending a veritable storm of electricity at her foes. The display of power was not to her benefit—Striga and Vulcana were far too small and nimble, and wove expertly between the grandiose and mighty blasts of lightning. Finally, the Electric-type growled. Gathering power, she formed what almost looked like a cage or net of energy around her. The cage expanded and advanced towards them.

 

Vulcana backed away, but Striga darted through, their hazy form malleable enough to flow through any chink. They launched shadows at the Ampharos, who staggered back. The cage fell, and Vulcana raced in, the embers on her back glowing.

 

Eyes narrowing, the Ampharos dropped to all fours, raising her tail over her head. It flashed with a blinding light, sending both pokemon staggering back with a wail; even the humans had to cover their eyes.

 

Before Vulcana’s vision recovered, the Ampharos was pinning her to the ground with her superior weight. The Electric-type snarled and then glowed, and Vulcana began to scream as her enemy shocked her—again and again and again. She was too effectively pinned, and there was no way to escape.

 

“Let her go!” Striga yelled, throwing spectral energy at her. The Ampharos ignored them, the shadows storming around her. “I said let her go!” More attacks were ignored.

 

Suddenly, the shadows began spiking around Striga, streaming off them like fire. Their entire demeanor changed, from a timid back-row fighter to a rabid berserker. With a wild and angry scream, the Ghost-type _threw_ themselves at the Ampharos. The shadowy auras between the two seemed to clash, causing both to flinch, but Striga didn’t let up. They pushed the attack, rushing the Ampharos again and again. The Ampharos staggered back, swatting at a foe too small and nimble to strike, and what little electric attacks she could get off were ignored outright by Striga.

 

Behind the violent aggression in the Ampharos’s eyes grew another emotion: fear. The shadows around them began writhing in blind panic.

 

“Striga, that’s enough!” Rui called. Striga ignored her. “Striga, stop!”

 

The Ghost-type turned and snarled at her. A clammy hand of fear gripped Rui’s chest and she recalled Striga before she was even aware of it. As the shadow pokemon melted back into their ball, Vulcana rushed the still-disoriented Ampharos. Tackling her to the ground, the Ampharos fell on her back and gasped when Vulcana’s fangs met her throat.

 

“No!” Rui screamed. “Vulcana, we don’t ki—”

 

But the protest died. Vulcana was not ripping her enemy’s throat out. She stood there, holding the fangs tight against the supple flesh, her eyes staring straight and mercilessly into the Ampharos’s. The message was clear: _yield or die._

 

The Ampharos’s chest rose up and down but they didn’t make a move. The pokemon had surrendered.

 

“Dammit, fight back!” Trudly ordered. The Ampharos did nothing. “I’m _ordering_ you!”

 

The Ampharos spoke, the words coming in brief spurts to avoid provoking Vulcana: “I’m not—dying for you—you _bastard_ —” Her voice was low and surprisingly scratchy, almost tomboyish. Rui readied the Snag Machine before Trudly could recall her, and the Ampharos was Snagged without a fight.

 

“Vulcana, help—”

 

But she needn’t have bothered. As soon as the Ampharos was out of the picture, Vulcana shot an almost offhandedly casual lash of flame. It curved across the lot and blasted right into the Quagsire, who had Luna on the ropes. The sudden blow sent the Quagsire backwards, his steps dizzy, before he collapsed. Rui readied the Snag Machine and—

 

And Folly recalled the pokemon.

 

Rui scowled at him. “Give me the Quagsire.”

 

His lips pulled back in a challenging sneer. “Come and take it, bitch. We shoulda taught you your place right away when we grabbed you. Could use yourself a lesson or two.”

 

Rui decided she was done talking. Reaching for another poke ball, she released Tama. The Makuhita blinked at the light, and then froze at the sight of his former trainers.

 

The feeling, it seemed, was mutual. What little color existed in Trudly and Folly’s faces drained.

 

“They were mean to you, weren’t they, Tama,” Rui said softly. The Makuhita nodded, his arms tensing. Small bits of shadow began streaming off of him. “They were going to do bad things to me.” Her mouth grew dry. She looked at those two men. For perhaps the first time in her life, she realized that she hated, truly hated, another human being. “They let their Persian do bad things to my Aipom, and then they gave her to even more bad people.”

 

Luna, who had made her way over to her trainer, looked up with concern. “Rui…” she said. Rui ignored her. Off to the side, Vulcana was watching the events unfold with a cynical and knowing smirk.

 

“What should we do to them, Tama?” Rui asked.

 

A reply: “Can I break them?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah, Tama. You can break them.”

 

Trudly tried to speak but the only sounds that came out were sputtering fear. He was chalk white.

 

Folly swore. “Here, take it.” He put the Quagsire’s ball on the ground and backed away. “Take the shadow pokemon, I don’t want it anymore.”

 

Rui said nothing. Tama advanced on the two men slowly, more shadows streaming off of him.

 

“Arceus!” Folly backed away until his back hit the wall. “Call it off! The shadow pokemon’s yours!”

 

Trudly tried to skirt away but Vulcana flared the embers on her back, and he backed away from the fire. The lot was small—there was no way past the two pokemon. He sunk to the ground, moaning with fear.

 

“I’ll—I’ll be done with crime!” Folly protested. Silence. Tama marched closer. “I’ll go to jail, I’ll testify—whatever you want! Dammit, you can’t—!”

 

Arceus, but she wanted to. If they didn’t deserve it, no one did. It would be over quick. It would send a message.

 

Wait. Breathe. Breathe.

 

No. Not like this. She hadn’t fallen this far. Not yet.

 

“Tama, stop.”

 

The Makuhita stopped and turned to face her, his face constrained. She abruptly felt terrible for using him like this. Using him like a thing and not a living being.

 

_I’m not them._

 

“They can go to jail. We don’t kill unless we have to.” The Makuhita slowly nodded.

 

Rui pulled out her pokegear and dialed the number Duking had given her for Sherles, the police chief. “We’ll sit here until the police show up to take them away,” she said. “If they move, then Vulcana—you can roast them.”

 

“With pleasure,” the Quilava replied, her fires burning low.

 

Tama brought her the Quagsire’s ball and she pocketed it. The police arrived, and with them, Duking.

 

The mayor took her aside to congratulate her. “ _Two_ shadow pokemon lost in one day,” he gloated. “That should light a fire underneath Miror B’s trousers. Not to mention that even if they’ve lately fallen from grace, these two are still noted enforcers. Everyone knows they’re his men. And thanks to you, they’re humiliated and in jail.” He grinned. “He can’t ignore you anymore.”

 

“Good.” She pulled out the ball with the Snagged Ampharos, as well as the one with the Quagsire in it. “I have eight pokemon now. Can I count on you to hold onto the spares?”

 

Duking nodded. “That was the agreement.” His smile thinned. “I know you’re a good trainer and you know what you signed up for, but you just painted a big target on your back. You okay with moving forward?”

 

She glanced at Trudly and Folly, who were cuffed and on their knees. She remembered the trunk, and her heart tightened at the memory of Pompom. “I’d do it all again twice if you gave me the opportunity,” she said. “But do me a favor.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The guy in the beanie mentioned getting his shadow pokemon from a supplier. I want to know everything he knows about that person.”

 

“Why?”

 

Pompom. She needed to save her. She _had_ to save her. “Because.”

 

Duking nodded. “Won’t be a problem.”

 

With that, Rui turned and headed back to the estate. She didn’t look back at Trudly and Folly. They weren’t her kidnappers anymore.

 

They were nothing.


	12. Chapter 11

** ONE DAY THROUGH THE EYES OF EIGHT POKEMON **

****

** Part the First: Morning **

**I. They Who Bridge the Long Far Gap of Time**

 

Striga woke from pleasant, far-off dreams. In their dreams they had been a person dancing underneath the stars, smiling and being smiled at, painted, purring, loving. There had been much love in those days, and little war, and the person who had become Striga had excelled at love, though to the detriment of their other duties. (But truly, the shaman was so stuffy—couldn’t they ease up, for once, and let them just enjoy life for its own merits?)

 

Yes, Striga liked their old life, for it had been good despite its abrupt and nasty end. The Aueriteks had come with spears and captive creatures, slaughtering the tribe, and the dark magics with which they had slain the person who had become Striga had not let their soul rest. Instead it wandered, gradually taking on a dark and floating shape that others named “Misdreavus.” Let them call what they liked—Striga did not mind.

 

They rolled in the air, shaking out the slumber, and tried the new names. _Striga. Misdreavus._ Well enough, they supposed, though they shook their head at the hectic new society and its need to label everything. Must every crag, every hill, every stone have a name? Other pokemon— _and even now,_ Striga mused, _it feels strange to think of pokemon as fellows_ —complained about this human proclivity, and Striga amusedly nodded along, even as they found the need of those pokemon to delineate themselves into _male_ or _female_ equally as silly. Their old team, back before they had been Snagged and sent to the Bad Place, had engaged in long and quite pointless discussions as to what Striga “really” was, never recognizing that “nothing” was as valid an answer as any other.

 

The Bad Place set their soul sullen for a moment. They had been bad the other day, had screamed and snarled at Rui. Though they were better now, it was still scary that it had happened—and probably would again.

 

_Something’s wrong with me._

 

They brushed the thought from their head like a cactus shaking off loose needles. Enough. There was nothing _wrong_ —merely different. Striga had spent their whole life— _both_ lives—comfortable with their differences. This was merely another one.

 

They began to drift through the mayor’s estate. Early-morning sun dappled through the windows, warm and pleasant, and they smiled each time they passed through its caress. They were typically the first among the pokemon to rise (except Vulcana, who had a tendency to wander at odd hours) and often made it up earlier than Rui.

 

Which was not the same as rising earlier than any of the humans.

 

A familiar clamor from around the corner set their spirits rising, and they drifted around it to find two small girls.

 

“Ghostie!” they cried happily, and Striga cooed for them in response. Duking’s two daughters shared space with Rui and the team, and the pokemon had quickly come to appreciate the two young girls. There was something about them that made your heart melt with joy, and they had a special talent for chasing away the irritating, omnipresent needle of darkness that came with being a shadow pokemon. _Every_ shadow pokemon (excepting Vulcana once more, the grump) enjoyed playing with the girls and their young friends who often came to visit. Though Rui had been reluctant to allow it at first, she had conceded once she saw just how positive an effect the children had.

 

The girls grinned and pulled something small and delicious-smelling out of a bag. “Treat!” Striga said happily, nibbling on it as soon as they got their mouth close enough. They knew the girls couldn’t understand them—though, as a Ghost-type, telepathy was theoretically possible; however Striga had never learned before being Snagged, and had no intention of giving themselves an extra weapon to hurt their friends with when their periods as a shadow pokemon reigned. However, the girls got the sentiment, and giggled nonetheless.

 

The little ones sat about talking about things Striga did not understand. “Boy bands” were mentioned frequently, a concept which Striga had no inkling of. They had seen bands of silver, copper, and gold, and had woven bands from reeds in their old life, but the concept of making jewelry from the masculine struck them as a bit extreme. The others had tried to explain it as something involving music, but that only got them more lost. You made a bracelet from the flesh of a boy and it sang to you? It sounded like a sinister campfire story. Striga was positive they would piece together the mystery someday, though. They _had_ to be misinterpreting the situation—the girls were too nice to actually go around stealing flesh from boys.

 

One of the girls shrieked with delight, a sudden sound, and Striga panicked. The half-eaten treat dropped to the ground and before they knew it, they had hidden away, invisible.

 

The moment passed and they allowed themselves to be seen again. _Another difference from the old me,_ they noted. The old them had enjoyed pleasures of the flesh, whereas Striga had no desire—and had been brave and forthright whereas Striga, ironically enough for a Ghost-type, scared quite easily.

 

Just another example of the beautiful changes that existed between them as they were now compared to then. Striga gloried in difference and change, and didn’t mind that they weren’t a carbon copy of their old self.

 

They drifted around the girls, playing for a bit, before a soft rustle of wings announced their next visitor. The girls squealed with delight as Striga turned and flashed a shy smile at another team member.

 

“Hello, Argyle.”

**II. He Who Fears the Beast that Claws Within His Breast**

 

Argyle was having a good day. Sure, he’d gotten the shit kicked out of him by Reed (the name Rui had bestowed upon the new Quagsire in their team) but really, who didn’t enjoy a good asskicking every now and then?

 

Argyle sure did. Definitely. 100%. He totally wasn’t using it as an excuse for why he kept getting beat up in battles.

 

But he was having a good day nonetheless. The beast hadn’t risen in many days, though he still dreaded the day it emerged.

 

Today wasn’t gonna be one of those days, though, and he wanted to sing.

 

He was having a good time with the mayor’s daughters. The older of the two, Marcia, was happily talking about her friend, a boy from school named Secc. Most of the other pokemon were out and about—Cap was off harassing the newcomers, Striga had quietly moved onto another part of the estate, and Tama was sitting in the room, not doing much but enjoying the presence of the girls nonetheless.

 

Argyle liked Striga and Tama the most out of his new teammates. Striga was shy but very friendly, and since their meeting the other day, he really felt as though he’d bonded with Tama. When Duking called his girls to go off to school, they did so with reluctance, waving goodbye to Argyle and Tama. Argyle sighed, enjoyed the stillness of the room and of Tama’s company, and finally decided to head out to another part of the estate. Rui was going patrolling again today, and there wasn’t any way he was going to get shown up. It was time to train.

 

Nodding to himself, he rounded the corner with enthusiasm—and plowed straight into Cap.

 

Oops.

 

After both pokemon were done stammering out apologies, Cap grinned and launched right into some probing personal questions. Argyle could never really understand just how or why the other pokemon had so much energy.

 

“So. New teammates,” Cap said, crossing his paws in front of himself. “Yay or nay?”

 

“Uh… what?”

 

The Espeon’s tail swished back and forth. “Yay, or nay? Yes or no?”

 

Argyle had no idea what he was going for. “I mean… we have them, so…”

 

Cap laughed and rolled onto his back. “Yeah, makes sense. I think they’re neat, though. Big water guy—”

 

“Reed.”

 

“—is kinda grouchy, but what’re you gonna do? And that Ampharos really needs to chill out.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Argyle said. “She really needs to lighten up and stop thinking that a fight is going to solve all her problems.”

 

“Won’t it, though?”

 

The voice was new to the conversation but not to his ears, and Argyle managed to slap himself mentally before turning to see the Ampharos in question staring murderously down at him. Her name was Denri—a word from Rui’s native land, apparently—and her eyes positively pulsed with latent anger.

 

Not necessarily at him, though. She was always like that.

 

“…well, yeah,” Argyle said, cursing himself and Cap and his own big mouth. “I mean, fighting’s good and all, but it’s not like it’s _everything,_ you know?”

 

She scoffed. “Spoken like a true coward.”

 

Wonderful. Great. The beast didn’t like _that._ Argyle breathed in and then out again. Calm down. Don’t give the beast an excuse. “I’m a shadow pokemon too, you know, and I’m pretty strong myself.”

 

Her eyes gleamed. “Fight me, then.”

 

Oh. Oh joy. Wasn’t this what he lived for? Getting beaten up was a _blast,_ right?

 

But like… there was a difference between enjoying a good ass-whupping and deliberately picking a fight with a perpetually-furious pokemon with a type advantage over you.

 

“Nah,” he said placatingly. “I wouldn’t win and we both know it. I mean, you are a real tough lady—”

 

The latent anger in her eyes exploded, and before Argyle knew what was happening, he found himself pinned against a wall, squawking in protest.

 

“Looks like I have to tell you guys the way I told my last couple teams,” Denri growled. “Whatever pheromones you think you smell, or whatever you think you see or don’t see on my body, I’m not female. I’m _male._ You got that?”

 

Oh. Whoops. Again.

 

Cap coughed. He was standing and his gem gleamed, slightly. Denri looked at him, her—dammit, _his_ —eyes narrowing, before letting Argyle slump to the ground. “And don’t think you’re not part of the problem,” he spat at Cap before stalking off.

 

“…I think there could have been nicer ways to make that point,” Argyle heaved out between breaths. “I’m not an asshole. He could have just _told_ me.” Cap patted him.

 

Boots announced Rui ringing the corner. “There you two are,” she said. “I’m collecting pokemon to go on patrol—oh, Argyle, you look awful. You can stay home today with Luna. We can only bring six anyway.” He slumped against the floor with a frustrated and resigned huff.

 

“But there’s absolutely one pokemon I need to take with me,” Rui murmured. “Where on earth is Vulcana?”

 

** Part the Second: Patrol **

**III. She Who Cries a Lonely Plea, and Weeps that There is No Answer**

Vulcana was in doubt.

 

She could never show it, of course. Never. She was not designed for doubt. She was made for one singular purpose—strength. Strength of combat, of course, but that was only a part. A bigger and oft-ignored aspect of strength was the ability to inspire. People and pokemon had to know they could look to her for guidance, support, and retribution. They had to know her name and her image—they had to feel that she would watch for them. She, more or less, had to be a _god_ for those lesser than her.

 

And Vulcana, in her humble opinion, felt it was a role she filled with aplomb.

 

Yet, she was in doubt.

 

_(A group of thugs ambush Rui. Six in total, one pokemon each. No shadow pokemon. Vulcana scatters them as easy as the wind scatters dandelion puffs. There is no challenge in this. There is nothing.)_

 

Yes, she was in doubt. Her job was to be a pillar of strength—but what happened when the pillar needed support? What happened when a goddess felt the urge to pray?

 

What then?

 

_(Vulcana’s reputation has preceded her in the city. The next assailant, a personal attendant to Miror B, wields a team designed to counteract her specifically. A trio of powerful Water-types, a Baltoy providing defense, and a shadow Fire-type which resists her moves. Rui insults Vulcana by sending the Psychic-type and the Makuhita out to fight alongside her. As though Vulcana needs the help. The opposition cowers beneath her holy flames and Rui effortlessly Snags the shadow pokemon, a Slugma. Naming him “Vein,” she sends him back to the gaudy mayor. Vulcana barely finds it in herself to care. These shadowlings are little more than knights on chessboards.)_

Her master…

 

A wild pang of emotion threatened to erupt within her, and she panicked. No. _No._ She was not like this. She was in control.

 

She adored her master. They were all in this world. They gave her solace. Direction. Purpose. The more time she spent away from them, the worse it got.

 

Rui was not helping matters.

 

_(Vulcana is barely aware of what is happening around her. It’s doldrum. Beneath notice. She is vaguely aware there are pokemon fighting her, commands issued by her so-called “trainer.” She performs them by rote. This is beneath her. All of this is beneath her.)_

Rui…

 

The girl was growing on Vulcana, and that scared her. She could not allow herself to open to the girl. She remembered that night, in the dark of the desert, when the girl had opened herself to Vulcana and Vulcana had felt for her…

 

How horrified she’d been when she realized what was happening. How quickly she’d taken steps to humiliate and distance the girl. She had nearly fallen into a terrible, terrible trap.

 

Rui could not replace her master. There was no sense in even considering it.

 

 _Then why have you consented to being carried around?_ A small part of her stabbed out. _Could it be that you_ doubt _your own path?_

 

No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She was here to…

 

She was here for…

 

Why _was_ she here?

 

Before she could tread this idea further, she became aware that the girl was jabbering at her. “Yes?” she asked curtly.

 

Rui blinked. “I was saying that you’re probably worn out after all you did. I’m putting another pokemon on point.” She gestured at one of the newcomers, the stolid-looking Quagsire.

 

As if she needed spelling. “Very well,” Vulcana drawled. “Replace me with… whomever.”

 

“Reed,” Rui supplied softly. “His name is Reed.”

 

**IV. He Who is Haunted by Children He Cannot Bear to Think Of**

Reed did as he was told.

 

It’s hard to keep up with an energetic human with long legs when you’re a solid amphibian with big, slappy feet, but he was told to keep up, so he did. He was told to keep a weather eye out for ambushes, so he did that as well, despite how hard it was to scan around him _and_ keep pace.

 

It wasn’t his place to judge.

 

He’d had a fiery streak, once. Independent. The scientists had broken that out of him. Thoroughly.

 

The threat of reminiscence sent a small tingle in his spine, his hind-brain, his instincts, and he shuddered. _No._

 

No, best to think of the job at hand. Rui—he still had to get used to her name—had told him to do things, so he did. End of story. He was glad that his new owner was a good person, or at least better than his old ones.

 

She stopped by a café, buying a frozen citrusy drink, and offered him a sip. He lapped at it dutifully and tried to hide how much he hated the taste. She giggled at the look on his face. “Aw, Reed,” she said, rubbing the top of his head. He liked the sensation, though judging by the forced smile on her features as she brought back a slime-covered hand, she enjoyed his viscosity about as much as he enjoyed Nomel Berry puree.

 

“Tell you what,” she said, crossing her legs. “After beating up that guy earlier, I think we probably won’t run into anyone else—so before we head home I think I should really get to know you and our other newcomer better.”

 

She released the other pokemon Snagged the same day as him, the feisty Ampharos. The Electric-type settled back with a scowl as Rui introduced both of them to the concept of Aura, what shadow pokemon were, and how she’d decided to try and stop the whole plan.

 

“Great,” drawled the Ampharos, his voice scratchy. “So all we gotta do is single-handedly go against the biggest crime boss in Orre on his home turf, fight the remnants of _another_ big criminal enterprise, then find their mysterious suppliers. By ourselves.”

 

Rui seemed taken aback. “I… I mean…”

 

He grinned. “Don’t misunderstand me. More fighting’s alright in my book.”

 

Rui’s shocked face melted into uneasy relief. “And you, Reed?”

 

He shrugged. “I’ll fight if you want me to.”

 

She nodded. “Great. So, um, I like to carry treats… but would you like to try some of this?” She offered the Amparos the smoothie.

 

He took a tentative sip, gagged, and spat it out. “What _is_ this shit?” he demanded.

 

Before Rui could speak up, Reed interjected: “I think I probably got some of my slime in it.”

 

The Ampharos chucked the smoothie at Reed. It bounced off his head harmlessly, to Rui’s giggles, and he felt a small smile playing about his lips. Rui ran to get another one (and clean her hands, probably.)

 

While she was gone, Reed turned to his compatriot. “I’m Reed,” he said simply.

 

The Ampharos eyed him warily, then nodded. He stuck out his paw in a gesture of friendship, one that Reed took.

 

“Denri.”

** Part the Third: Return **

**V. He Who Finds the Most Beauteous Part of a Rose to be Its Thorns  
**

 

Denri. That was his name now.

 

He rolled it around in his mouth, tasting it. He still remembered the name his first trainer had given him—Amber. How he’d hated it. This was a far better-suited one, meaning electricity and the process of ionization. It was sleek. Dangerous.

 

He knew he was dangerous and gloried in it. He always had. But nowadays, he found himself not only appreciating fights but spoiling for them. He was a font of anger that never ceased to spill. He was always, _always_ looking for the next fight.

 

So that’s why, frustrated on their return to Duking’s estate without a chance to battle, he’d decided to punch a wall.

 

Not the best of plans, in retrospect.

 

Denri nursed his injured hand and his more-injured pride, leering at any of the pokemon who had witnessed his momentary act of aggression and daring them to mock him.

 

_Yeah, laugh all you want—that wall had it coming and you know it._

 

Dimly he was aware that this was not okay. He had never been this uncontrolled, this furious. He didn’t like the term used to describe him, though. ‘Shadow pokemon.’ As if he were some freak…

 

He wandered his way to the room where Rui was speaking with the mayor, hoping his new trainer would give him a match to fight or an enemy to zap away. Instead, Duking was congratulating Rui on beating Miror B’s assistant earlier that day. “That wasn’t just any fight,” he was saying, “but a hit. That attendant’s team was hand-picked to counteract your best pokemon and you showed him up big-time. People are going to be whispering about that.”

 

“Hopefully more than just whispering,” Rui sighed. She’d absently petted Denri but didn’t focus on him, which was troublesome. “I just want Miror B to come out here and fight me already.”

 

“Due time,” Duking said warmly. “He won’t fight unless you force his hand. He’s not the kind to stoop to the level he sends his thugs at. But you’ve already made tremendous progress. Just about the whole city knows your name, now, and anyone not in his pocket is on your side.”

 

Conversation turned to the newest Snagged pokemon. Rui admitted that while the Eeveelutions as well as her first six shadow pokemon were forming a rotating team of eight, she had no inclination to add the Slugma. “He didn’t impress me like the others,” she said, “and frankly, Vulcana’s all I could ever need in a Fire-type…”

 

“How strong she is, I’m surprised she’s not a Typhlosion already.”

 

Rui nodded pensively. “A lot of them are like that, actually. Tama’s strong enough to be a Hariyama, at least. I think… being a shadow pokemon locks them out of evolution.”

 

A new form of anger, fear-anger, threaded its way into Denri’s heart. He didn’t need this. Having his ‘condition’ discussed and dissected in front of him.

 

“Hey boss,” he said, grabbing Rui’s attention. She turned. “Help me out?” He jabbed the air in front of him several times, clearly demonstrating that he wanted to fight.

 

But she totally misread the situation. “Aww, you hurt your hand?” she asked before fishing out a potion. Before Denri could protest, she’d sprayed the medicine on his hand, and then, teasingly, bent over to kiss it better.

 

A giggle from the doorway.

 

Denri’s head whipped around to see a pale, two-pronged tail vanish out of sight. Righteous hot anger blazed within him. _That punk also tried showing me up today._ Ignoring Rui’s confused protests, he stomped after the Espeon.

 

Cap was lounging in the rec room, all the pokemon except the newcomer Slugma surrounding him. He was in the middle of a story. “—and then she pulled out her potion—”

 

“No!” roared Denri, real anger coursing now. “That’s it!”

 

He was vaguely aware of shorting out a light above him, of Luna’s tight chastisement and the other pokemon’s sudden shock and worry, but Cap lazily rose. “Yeah, let’s play!” he said with infuriating mischief.

 

Denri grinned. Finally, something to throw himself against! “You’re on, Cap!”

**VI. He Who Delights in All Life’s Gifts, the Greatest of Which is Himself**

Cap knew exactly what time it was.

 

Time to prepare the awesomeness.

 

As the other pokemon cleared out, giving them an open-ish space in which to scrap, he sauntered back and forth. Denri’s face looked kinda scary, but Cap knew he just needed some space to get it out. Besides, he’d probably be angry too if he had to put up with the injustice of not being an Espeon.

 

Denri’s tail bauble and forehead gem crackled with electricity and Cap responded in kind by making his own gem glow. Yeah, he knew the theory behind pokemon powers—each pokemon had an inner reservoir of energy, which manifested differently for different types. His was supposed to be psychic energy or whatever juju they called it, but he knew what it really was:

 

The power of being badass.

 

He lazily strutted to the center, putting on his most handsome and disarming smile. Denri didn’t have a reaction, which probably meant that Cap’s smile was _so_ blinding that Denri _had_ to ignore it or face crippling self-esteem issues.

 

“Keep it safe,” warned his stick-in-the-mud sister. “Things get too heated, the rest of us _will_ stop you guys.”

 

He stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to his opponent. “Ready when you are,” he called, and before the words were out of his mouth, Denri had launched an attack.

 

Like, whoa. Chill out, dude.

 

The electricity was super-duper powerful and super-duper intimidating and super-duper not any of Cap’s problem, ‘cause Denri was a big pokemon who hadn’t gotten used to the idea that great things come in small, Cap-sized packages. Cap nimbly skirted through the bolts of lightning, closing the distance towards the other pokemon. The thing about being the best type was that not only did you get cool psychic powers which let you beat up brawny bullies and control stuff by thinking, but everyone thought you relied on those powers exclusively. Denri didn’t realize Cap was coming closer to attack until a few seconds before Cap’s skull struck his chest.

 

Denri fell back, wheezing, and Cap decided to coat him in awesomeness. Sure, Denri _was_ pretty cool, in his own way, but everyone needed the help.

 

The awesomeness lifted Denri up, and Cap shouted “You’re a superhero!” before chucking him at the wall. Denri hit it, slumped, and rose while glaring murder, which Cap didn’t think was fair. Who didn’t want to be a superhero?

 

He filled his gem with more awesome as Denri roared and rushed him, sparks flying every which way. Some even landed on Cap’s perfect coat. When Denri was close, the Ampharos dropped to all fours and whipped his tail overhead, compressing his power into one enormous bolt.

 

Cap responded in kind. He concentrated all the awesomeness he had and shot it out in a beam of pure, concentrated badassery. The two powers clashed and burst, shaking the room and blinding everyone.

 

Though his vision was still hazy, Cap could see the staggering form of his opponent. He smiled, wiggling his rump as he prepared to pounce. It was time—!

 

And then Luna used her own superpower. Namely, she magically made a fun situation not-fun.

 

Lame.

 

Luna stopped the fight and the other pokemon rushed in there. While they fussed over him and Denri, Cap perkily asked who won.

 

Denri glared at him for a sec before visibly relaxing. “…you did,” he said. “You would have gotten me. It was a good match.”

 

Cap nodded. “It _was_ a good match! You can play any time!” He beamed, meaning every word. He was pretty cool, but all of his friends were cool too. Denri sighed again and shook his head, but there was no venom in it. His smile was growing. See? Luna was a worrywart, but Cap knew how things worked. Some pokemon need encouragement, others needed to hit stuff. Cap got it.

 

After the fight, he celebrated by taking out his prized possession: his Captain Justice cap. He wore it proudly, and beamed even harder when Luna rolled her eyes at him so hard that they probably felt it in Alola.

 

“You look like someone’s decades-out-of-style lap pet,” she said.

 

“I see that I got all the genes for talent _and_ taste,” he lamented, strutting off.

 

“Where are you going, exactly?”

 

“To find a pokemon who truly appreciates high fashion.”

 

“And that would be?”

 

“Tama.”

** Part the Fourth: Eve **

**VII. He Who Much Prefers a Glade to an Arena**

Tama had finally managed to escape Cap’s insistent attentions. He appreciated the little Espeon—in fact, he rather enjoyed playing with him, even if doing so got him odd looks from the other pokemon sometimes—but on more than one occasion, Cap decided to let his mouth run away with him.

 

Tama’d been ambushed by the little fella resplendent in that hat he loved so much, and had been treated to the ultimate one-two combo: Cap ranting about Captain Justice for two hours before somehow seamlessly transferring to extoling the virtues of his Uncle Orange for two _more_ hours.

 

Frowning, Tama looked at the clock. Okay, four hours straight was exaggerating, but only a little bit.

 

Now that he was finally free, it was night had fallen outside. Tama didn’t mind. He was no Zubat, shuddering in a cave, nor a Nuzleaf meandering about, drinking in sunlight. He had business to attend to, day or night.

 

Like overcoming this opponent.

 

He glared at the Thing, and the Thing glared back. Creepily. Tama didn’t like creepy things. They creeped. Crept? Who knew.

 

The Thing was in the girls’s playroom, which he and the other pokemon were allowed into. The girls were asleep, so now it was just him and Striga and Argyle there, all of them quiet. The other two watched with some interest as he sized up the Thing.

 

The Thing was tall, thin, circular, and quite strange. It looked like a long punching bag, but it stood on the ground and was painted over with the wide grinning face of some sort of clown-monster. Tama warily circled the Thing, knowing as he did that as soon as one set of painted eyes lost him, a second pair on the backside would reappear to menace him.

 

Creepy.

 

“Do it!” Argyle prompted, waving his wings in excitement. Apparently Denri had roughed him up this morning, but Tama thought he looked alright. Striga said nothing but made their encouragement known on their face.

 

Tama nodded. It was time.

 

He reared back and hit the Thing full-force.

 

The top of the Thing sailed back, but the bottom stayed in place, making it look like a human trying to fall over with their feet nailed to the ground. His blow was strong—the Thing was almost horizontal with the ground. Surely this time it would stay down. Surely—

 

With surprising speed and truncheon force, the Thing whipped back up, smacking Tama right in the face. He had just enough time to panic as the wide grinning clown face zoomed at him; he almost fancied he heard it laughing. The impact sent him scuffling onto his own back. He blinked at the ceiling.

 

“Nooooooo!” came Argyle’s cry. Striga gasped alongside him.

 

Soon enough his vision was filled with the two of them. They glanced down at him with a mix of worry and pity. “You okay?” Argyle asked.

 

Tama grunted and stood. The Thing was still rocking back and forth, though slowly.

 

Before he could say more, the nearby door opened and the girls filed out, rubbing sleep from their eyes. The littlest one looked the still-moving thing to the red mark on Tama’s face and nodded. Then she moved over and hugged him tight.

 

Somewhere, deep inside, he registered that he didn’t flinch or tense when she did that. That was new.

 

The older one, Marcia, tutted, but she had a warm smile on her face and she spread that warmth to Striga and Argyle.

 

Simply being around the girls was revitalizing, and Tama wouldn’t have traded them for the world. He realized, with some measure of… was it apprehension? It was so weak it was hard to tell, yet the fact that it was weak meant it would normally be strong—if he wasn’t a shadow pokemon.

 

Regardless, he realized that he’d never have the life he envisioned, happy with a carefree trainer like this. He was too good at fighting. Too useful.

 

“I am not a weapon,” he muttered, and he wasn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a soldier.

 

When the girls retired, the other pokemon stepped away.

 

“You staying up tonight, Tama? It’s your watch night?”

 

Though the mayor’s estate was theoretically safe, the pokemon had decided to post irregular watches on days—like today—when some major blow was dealt against Miror B. Just in case.

 

Tama shook his head. “Not tonight. I was going to, but then she took it.”

 

“Who?”

 

He thought. He was going to say “a friend,” but was that accurate? She had hated him at first, though she came around. She usually did. It was hard for her to get friends, but she did well as a leader nonetheless.

 

“Luna.”

**VIII. She Who Hides Her Songful Heart Beneath a Somber Mantle**

Luna loved nighttime. It was the best part of the day.

 

Some might point to her typing, or even her species, as evidence of her love, but they got it backwards—she had become an Umbreon because she loved the night, not vice-versa.

 

The night was on and the mayor’s estate was winding down, most of the humans and the pokemon retired. There were a few exceptions—she had passed, and bristled against, Vulcana a few halls back—but overall everyone was winding down.

 

Luna needed little excuse to enjoy the sanctity of eventide, but she’d elected to take Tama’s watch tonight for one particular reason—there was someone she needed to speak to.

 

Her trainer.

 

Luna knew that Rui tended to keep late hours and sleep in, probably because she was still adjusting to living in an entirely new part of the globe. So when she saw that the small room given to Rui was glowing with light, she didn’t feel surprised.

 

She nosed her way inside the room to see that Rui was thumbing through a small book, a look of consternation on her face. She shuffled inside and waited for the girl to notice her.

 

It took a minute or two. Rui blinked and glanced up. “Oh, Luna. Hey, what’s up.”

 

“Hey, Rui,” Luna said. “Listen, I was hoping… we could talk.”

 

Rui frowned and pushed her book aside. “What about?”

 

Luna breathed in. “Well… I’ve just been wondering about… stuff.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Luna fixed her gaze pointedly on the small pauldron that held the Snag Machine when not in use. “Like that.”

 

Rui followed Luna’s gaze. Her mouth tightened. “What about it?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about some things. I know that after… Wes, that we decided to keep the Snag Machine. Hell, I helped talk the others into it.” Luna raised her head. “But now I’m not so sure we should keep it. It’s too risky.”

 

“We need the Snag Machine, Luna,” Rui countered. “We went over this. They won’t stop coming after us…”

 

“So?” Luna challenged. “We’re already fighting against them anyway.”

 

“Don’t you want the shadow pokemon to be saved?”

 

“You got Reed just fine without the Snag Machine! His trainer had recalled him, don’t you remember?” Luna did—seeing Rui threaten the other trainer had been very frightening. “If we don’t need it to save them, and we’re actively bringing the fight, why chance them getting it back? They _want_ it back, which might mean they’re having trouble duplicating it. All the others were destroyed in the explosion. This is what Wes died for—we _need_ to get rid of this!”

 

Rui breathed in and out through her nose a few times. “Luna. We need it. We all agreed on it.”

 

“Not _all_ of us, and things have changed! Ask the other pokemon again!”

 

“We need it!”

 

Heat spiked in her chest. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be a domineering trainer. That you would actually _listen_ to us.”

 

“I am. I do!”

 

“Then why did you bully me into complicity when you wanted us to go along with Duking’s plan?  


“That’s—”

 

“Why did you almost order Tama to kill those criminals, even though we agreed on no deaths?”

 

“I—”

 

“What’s going _on,_ Rui?”

 

“ _I NEED IT, LUNA!”_

 

The Umbreon blinked, taken aback by Rui’s sudden outburst. The young woman’s eyes welled with tears and her face was wound into a tight, frustrated curl. “I… I _need_ it. As long as I have the Machine, I… I’m not _her_ anymore, do you understand? I’m not…” She began to cry, and wiped her sleeve over her eyes angrily. “Dammit. I’m not gonna be her again. As long as I have the Snag Machine, I’m strong. I won’t lose you like Pompom or—or Wes, or—I—I need—”

 

She lapsed into silence. Luna stared at her, a tight frown on her features.

 

“So you think that the Machine is what makes you strong?”

 

Rui’s reply was sudden and venomous. “Don’t _talk_ to me like you _understand._ ”

 

“Yeah,” Luna replied bitingly. “How could I understand? I’m just a pokemon. Just something less than you.”

 

“…leave me alone,” Rui said. Without a word, Luna turned and honored her wish.

 

She patrolled the manor in silence.

 

She loved the nighttime. Always had. It gave her time to be alone.

 

And think.

 

And mourn.


	13. Chapter 12

I cannot believe that I am being pestered with this. I thought that the bomber, mild thorn though he was, had been dealt with—and now we hear complaints from Miror B about some _girl?_

 

Remind him that if he is to fill the hole that Gonzap left in our organization, he needs to handle his problems in a manner complimentary to his station. He is no longer a provincial middleman. He has clout, so let him show he deserves it.

 

Apprehension was understandable, I suppose, when his position was fragile, dependent on the interlocking chain of Pyrite gangs to all unite behind him. But now he need not fear. Should any of his riff-raff get uppity, the full weight of the Cipher shall fall upon them. He should feel emboldened.

 

Put a bullet in this “Rui”’s brain. Sic pokemon on her. Burn down the building where she sleeps. Do what needs be done; we can make the fallout disappear.

 

But if I, or any other member of the High Council, am pestered with so minor a problem again, we may just lose our patience.

 

Shadow Pokemon Lab

—Chief Ein

 

\---

 

The foes fell easily before them. Denri was more than a little disappointed by how easily they won. This was supposed to be battle! Glorious combat! A way to slake his hunger!

 

Still, it worked. And, he had to grudgingly admit, though these foes weren’t titans, they still fed the thrill at least somewhat.

 

Part of it was just how many pokemon his new trainer had. Even though Rui had no intention of using the Slugma, that still left them with a rotating crew of eight—which meant two pokemon had to be left behind while she went on patrol. Having to leave pokemon _behind?_ In _Orre?_ You were lucky to have more than two pokemon to your belt here. Even had the group not been composed of strong fighters—and all of them were, mused Denri—then sheer weight of numbers could have helped Rui against any opponent she imagined.

 

He fought alongside Striga, the little ghost he had once tried to kill. Funny how quickly shadow pokemon put aside past enmities. There was the unspoken knowledge between all of them: _we know. We know how it is. Sometimes you go feral._ He wasn’t proud of it—but it happened. They acted savage towards each other and then forgave one another. If they didn’t, who would?

 

But on the flip-side, a team of shadow pokemon, united together, were almost unstoppable.

 

They had heard of a smuggling operation, bringing in illicit pokemon for Miror B to distribute as “unofficial” prizes in the Colosseum—a way of enticing talented trainers to join the ranks of his gang. It would be the biggest blow for him so far.

 

The warehouse had been crawling with trainers, some of them Miror B enforcers, others rough workmen capable of looking the other way for extra money in their pocket. They had turned their pokemon loose against Rui.

 

They needn’t have bothered.

 

Striga spun shadows, enchanting two opposing Linoone as Denri shocked them into submission. Nearby, Tama was plowing through a contingent of Rock-types, while Cap dueled an enemy Kadabra, the clashing psychic energy making the air shimmer. Vulcana was clearing a full fourth of the adversary by herself, _effortlessly,_ and Denri couldn’t help but be envious of her power—it was growing clearer and clearer that his strong showing against her in their first fight had been a fluke. Argyle hung near Rui, using his powers to shield her from any errant attacks.

 

Reed and Luna were absent.

 

Reed’s absence was unsurprising, given that the Quagsire had taken a big hit from an enemy yesterday, but Luna hadn’t accompanied them on an excursion in nearly five days. The air between her and Rui had grown frosty, and the other pokemon were murmuring—had a rift emerged between trainer and team leader? Neither were forthcoming with information, but the tension was infecting the whole team and leaving everyone on edge.

 

Well, everyone except Vulcana, who just seemed to enjoy the show.

 

But today, they were performing well. The whole warehouse was routed; there was nary a strong pokemon in sight, and the enemy trainers had no idea how to coordinate.

 

Soon enough the Miror peons were fleeing, and the workmen were in retreat. Another adversary, a Lotad, cowered before Denri.

 

He felt a sudden, fiery urge to just shock it and shock it until it stopped moving. It would be simple. It would be so _easy._ It was his enemy. It deserved it, it—

 

_No._ He breathed in, forcing down the flood of violence. _No._

 

He wasn’t like this. They didn’t kill. They’d decided on that as a team; that no matter how hard they had to be, this was what separated them from the bad guys. They didn’t kill.

 

He growled at the cowering Lotad. “Don’t ever let me see you again.” The Grass-type scampered away.

 

Hopefully, that would be the end of it.

 

The only pokemon still putting up a fight was the Kadabra. Cap seemed to have gained the upper hand, but the creature was going down hard, so Denri lent a helping hand.

 

Or rather, a helping thunderbolt.

 

Right to the Kadabra’s back.

 

The electric attack sent it into spasms as it collapsed, and there was a momentary discomfort as the thing’s Synchronize tried to paralyze Denri in return. He swatted the sensation away. He’d endured worse in the vein of electricity—far worse.

 

Cap turned to face him and for a moment Denri thought there would be anger at him “stealing” Cap’s victory—but the Espeon grinned and swished his tail playfully from side to side, the equivalent of a human thumbs-up. Denri smiled back. Despite initial misgivings, he was coming to greatly like the little guy. Strangely enough, losing to him had only kickstarted their friendship. It had been an honest fight.

 

It was growing easier to be happy, Denri thought. It was getting easier not to give in to the desire for death.

 

Rui was advancing on the chief warehouse worker. The man was short but sturdy, with a magnificently receding hairline and a thick, bushy moustache. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he eyed from side to side, as though he could escape Rui when there were six pokemon surrounding him.

 

Rui sauntered up to him casually, putting one booted foot on an empty shipping crate. Her smile didn’t touch her eyes. “You know this is over,” she began. “The police are going to be here as soon as I tell them.”

 

The warehouse chief licked his lips.

 

“But we know you’re just a victim,” she continued. “Bullied into helping Miror B by threats. Right? You’re not _actually_ in with him. Are you?”

 

She let the implication hang in the air and waited for him to make the next move.

 

It didn’t take long. “What—what do you want.”

 

“Like any other law-abiding citizen, you of course want to help put a stopper on crime,” Rui said. Denri couldn’t but watch in awe. The smooth, confident operator he saw was a far cry from the energetic, sometimes awkward girl that interacted with the team in private. Which was the real Rui?

 

Were _either_ of them real?

 

“Where is Miror B’s base,” she continued.

 

The chief nodded over and over again, his neck bobbing one of those drinking Combusken toys. “He runs a disco club here in town called the ‘Red & White’. He’s there— _always_ there. It’s built up against a granite cliff at the edge of town, you can’t miss it.”

 

Rui nodded slowly. Denri knew that this corroborated information which Duking had fed them the past few days. As Rui pressed the chief further, Denri sidled up to Striga in sympathy. The Misdreavus had been trafficked to their prior, abusive trainer through a ‘disco club.’

 

“But you’ll never get in there,” the man continued. “The Red & White is locked up tight—you have to have an entry pass. And you’ll never get one!”

 

“Of course I will,” Rui drawled. “You’re going to give me yours.”

 

The man’s skin paled considerably. “I don’t know what you’re—”

 

“Don’t give me that.” Rui’s face darkened. “I know that you have one. Give it to me and the police and the mayor will look the other way that this operation was run out of your building. I’m their chief operative—they’ll listen to me.”

 

“Do you know what he’ll do to you? Miror B will—”

 

“Will _what?_ ” Rui didn’t yell, but she didn’t have to. Mew above, but she could be scary at times. “Hasn’t he sent men after me already? Didn’t you just watch me dismantle an entire operation by myself? If Miror B could stop me, then I’d be stopped. I’m bringing him down and his whole operation with him, and you can be a casualty or you can walk away.”

 

The man licked his lips again, clearly unsure. Rui grunted and slammed her fist into the wall next to his head—the fist still wearing the Snag Machine. The metal made a rough _clang_ against the wall. “I’m a carrot-and-stick kinda girl,” she said. “So far you’ve seen the carrot. _You don’t want to see the stick._ ”

 

The phrase was a pre-arranged signal. Denri glowered, letting electricity fill his tail with an eerie glow, and the other pokemon made similar threat displays. The chief caved. “H-here,” he said, fumbling for the pass to the Red & White. “Just keep me and my guys out of prison. We just wanted some extra change…”

 

“Just a few coins, huh? That’s close comfort for the pokemon you trafficked, I’m sure,” Rui said coolly. The man hung his head in shame.

 

Denri followed her out of the building. Everything was going as they hoped. The smuggling operation was shattered, they had a pass to the disco club, and soon they’d be taking the fight directly to—

 

A Duskull materialized out of thin air, launching a glowing ball at him. Only a lifetime of reflexes allowed Denri enough time to maneuver out of the way.

 

Rui cursed and turned, but the door into the warehouse had been bolted from the inside. They were trapped in the alley.

 

Figures materialized out of each end of the alley. Cap bristled at the sight of them. “I know them,” he warned. “They’re Brotherhood.”

 

One of the figures was a young, scrappy woman, supported by another. She looked like she had no control over her limbs, barely managing to stumble along, and her mouth was sunk on one half, like that of a stroke victim. But her eyes—she glared pure, unadulterated hate at Rui.

 

Rui swallowed and Denri smelled fear in her, though she kept it masked. “Hello, Revy.”

 

“Hey there, girlie,” Revy replied. The words were loose and slurred, barely comprehensible, and it came out as “Hhhhheyderrrrr gurrlehh…” The woman’s eyes flashed with malice. “Been a while.”

 

Rui nodded, apprehension on her face. “You’re here for…?”

 

Revy squawked out a tumbling parody of a laugh. “You made me this way,” she said— _yuuu muhdmeh dissssweh_. “Smacked me with that glass…”

 

“I remember,” Rui said cautiously. “Revy, whatever revenge you want… I’ve been beating the goons you’ve sent after me over and over again. I have six pokemon here, five of them shadows. The Brotherhood is _over._ You can’t win.”

 

The cruel-eyed woman smirked through half a face. “Can’t I?”

 

At her command, the Brotherhood member supporting her unleashed a pokemon, as did the other person ringing them in through the alley. The pokemon charged.

 

It was hectic, but not unconquerable. Argyle stayed back shielding Rui, as before, and Cap and Denri launched energy attacks while the others fought off the advancing pokemon. The battle was brief, brutal, and entirely in their favor.

 

Revy unleashed another new pokemon. “Put them down!”

 

The pokemon flashed into a cruel-eyed, snarling Skiploom, and everything from the feral glint in its eyes to the hyperaggressive stance told Denri he was facing a shadow pokemon. The Skiploom drifted up and sprayed powder at them.

 

“I’ve got you!” Argyle cried. He swept forward, and a psychic shield deflected the powder. A pinpoint blast of flame from Vulcana sent the Skiploom to the floor, and a Snag Ball caught it a moment later.

 

The apprehension was leaving Rui. “Is that the best you have?”

 

In response, Revy grinned a wicked grin and rolled her one good eye up. Rui followed her gaze, as did Denri.

 

There was a fourth Brotherhood member on a roof, looking down into the alley with a Nidoran. The pokemon’s spines were aimed right at Rui.

 

There was a sound like a blowgun and Rui reeled back, yelling, the Poison Sting attack sprouting out of her arm and side. Three noxious quills, each colored purple, were already fast at work delivering their toxin.

 

“Break!” Revy yelled. As she was pulled away, the other Brotherhood member asked about the Snag Machine. “Take it off her _corpse_!” She turned back to grin lop-sidedly at Rui one last time. “Consider this payback!”

 

They were there and not there, and the alley was suddenly empty.

 

Rui staggered one step, and then another, vainly grabbing at the quills, and then she collapsed, heaving for breath. Her eyes were wide and watery and the color was already draining from her face.

 

“Not again,” Cap said, his voice weak. He was in shock. They were all in shock. They’d bypassed the team entirely and attacked their _trainer._ “Not again…”

 

“What do we do?” Striga wailed. Denri tried to speak but had no answer. Cap was muttering to himself. Striga screamed again. “What do we _do?_ ”

 

They needed Luna. They needed a leader. They didn’t know what to…!

 

“Remove the quills immediately!”

 

The order came from Argyle. Denri blinked. They all did. The Noctowl was flapping high. “Cap! Use your teeth, and be careful! Take the quills out!” The Espeon gulped, nodded through his tears, and set about doing it. “Tama, guard Cap and Rui! I’ll fly to Duking’s and get help. It’s a Nidoran, a weak Poison-type—even if the victim’s a human, there’s still a chance we can save her if we act fast!” He turned to face us. “Striga, Denri, Vulcana— _get that Nidoran._ ”

 

And with that, he soared away.

 

Silence held for a moment before Cap barked out, “ _you heard him!_ ” and they exploded into action. Striga floated up to the rooftop and Vulcana scrambled up as though it was effortless. Before Denri could try scrabbling up a drainpipe, he felt psychic power lift him up and deposit him atop. He had enough time to exchange an appreciative nod with Cap before bounding away.

 

The Brotherhood enforcer with the Nidoran was a distant dot, but Striga and Vulcana were already closing ground. As he raced after them, thoughts passed through Denri’s head.

 

_This was a setup. The entire thing. The warehouse operation, the pass to the Red & White, even the Skiploom… the whole point of the Skiploom was to draw Argyle away from Rui to make her vulnerable. They sacrificed a shadow pokemon, letting it get Snagged, just to make leave her exposed for a few seconds._

 

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.

 

Ahead, Vulcana had closed on the Brotherhood member. The man released two more pokemon, a Ralts and a Rattata, but they were no match for the three of them. The fight was over in seconds.

 

Striga turned to their teammates. “Maybe if the police get the Nidoran, they can concoct a specialized antidote!”

 

Further ideas were cut off when the Rattata lunged at them. The rat passed harmlessly through—Striga was a Ghost-type, after all—but in the confusion, the man recalled the Nidoran, and the Ralts used Teleport and—

 

And that was it. Their quarry had vanished.

 

Except for the quivering Rattata.

 

The little rat looked from side to side, shocked. “B-but… they weren’t supposed to leave me…”

 

Denri roared and swung a fist at him, knocking the little thing against an empty brick planter. The remains of a rooftop garden sprawled around them. The Normal-type cowered. “Please, I… I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know we were going to hurt the girl!”

 

Vulcana advanced on him, growling. “To think such a meager thing actually posed a threat to us.”

 

The Rattata tried to rise and couldn’t. “Please, I’m sorry! I’ll—I’ll help get an antidote!”

 

“Rui was hurt because her own reservations left her _weak._ ” Vulcana’s voice bubbled like magma. “And things like you thought us easy prey. Well, she and her weakness aren’t here right now. A message needs to be sent.”

 

Wait. Was Vulcana…? Was she actually saying…?

 

Denri exchanged an alarmed glance with Striga. “Wait, Vulcana,” Striga began.

 

Vulcana ignored them, the fires on her back pluming high. “Any last requests?”

 

“I—I’m sorry! _Please!”_ The Rattata’s voice was almost a scream from terror. “Mercy, I—I beg you! Mercy!”

 

The Quilava considered it, and then nodded. “Very well.” Denri deflated, the tension gone, and Striga breathed a sigh of relief. The Rattata collapsed into a sob of joy.

 

“This _is_ a mercy,” Vulcana continued, her voice cold.

 

Before they could react, a pillar of fire took the Rattata, burning and burning and _burning_ long for a moment that Denri wished would just end. When Vulcana was done, she turned. Striga cringed back from her, but Denri stood his ground, though he avoided looking at the charred thing behind her.

 

“How could you,” he said, his voice sharp with anger. Vulcana looked unimpressed. “We agreed as a team on no deaths. This is who we are. How _could you_.”

 

“‘We’ agreed?” Vulcana said, her voice low and taunting. There was a haughty darkness in her eyes, a darkness that _could not be reasoned with,_ and Denri suddenly realized— _she’s a shadow pokemon too._ It had been easy to forget, considering that she did not fly into rages or lock up her emotions like the rest of them. But darkness manifested in many different ways.

 

Vulcana took a step and he retreated, involuntarily. “Our sop of a trainer decided that and look where it got her. We’ve made such little progress despite how long we’ve been here because she refuses to _take action._ ”

 

Striga’s voice was tremulous but hard. “No progress?” The Ghost-type advanced on Vulcana. “She _rescued_ me. And—and Denri and Reed and _everyone!_ That’s worth something!”

 

Scoffing, Vulcana looked back and forth between them. “So you say. The little picture instead of the big. _These_ small steps will undo the shadow pokemon plan? I doubt it. And don’t act so sanctimonious about deaths and killing. Didn’t she have to stop _you_ from killing those children?” Striga shrank back, ashamed, and Vulcana turned her gaze to Denri. “And what about _you,_ shadow pokemon? Am I to understand that your past serving as a living weapon for criminals is bloodless?”

 

Fists tightening, Denri gritted his teeth. He had done things in the height of shadow-fueled anger he was not proud of. He had left bodies on the battlefield. “That was then,” he said, though the argument sounded toothless in his mouth. “Before… before Rui…”

 

Vulcana scoffed again and strode past him and Striga. “So you have killed. And yet you try to shame me? What posturing.” She hopped across the rooftop and called back without turning. “Well? Shall we return to our so-called trainer, or not?”

 

As she stalked away and the two of them slowly trailed, Denri noticed something. She had not looked back at what was left of the Rattata, not when talking with them. She still had not looked back, even as they moved away.

 

She would never look back. Not because she couldn’t bear to see what she had done—but because it was not worth her attention. She would never look back.

 

And that scared him.

 

When they returned to the alley, there was a paramedic team. They were loading Rui into a stretcher, with an ambulance waiting at the alley’s mouth. Her skin was almost chalk-white. Her breathing was labored, and her eyelids fluttered.

 

The other three pokemon looked on. “It’s out of our hands now,” Cap said, his voice tight with worry. Tears peppered the fur on his cheeks like dew. “Let’s hope the humans can save her…” He turned to face them. “Did you find the Brotherhood members?” His brow lowered as he read their faces. “What… what happened?”

 

Vulcana turned to Denri. “Do you want to tell them,” she said with toxic sweetness, “or should I?”


	14. Chapter 13

Wait. Did I understand your last message correctly? She has Aura manipulation and pokemon empathy _both?_

 

—Shadow Pokemon Lab

Chief Ein

 

\---

 

The world was a dark and changing sea—tumultuous, storming, tossing. Rui rode it out as best she could.

 

Her body felt aflame, her mind spinning and barely able to hold onto thoughts—they slipped out, like sand falling between her fingers. There was something she was missing. Something she had forgotten…

 

The memories came to her like a wave cresting out of the dark sea. Sharp quills in her arm, a sudden fiery pain, lancing agonies of venom coursing through her. Lights, wailing sirens, IV drips and hookups and blurry, concerned faces.

 

The ocean rocked her and she shuddered. She did not want to deal with these memories.

 

And so new pains rose to the surface. Loss. The loss of so many. It crushed her, as though she was feeling it anew, each dart as sharp as it was the first time it landed. And behind the loss lurked the fear that it was somehow all her fault, that she needed to change, she _had_ to change or it wouldn’t stop, and she ran, she ran, she ran far and far away, riding the boat across the dark ocean, fearful of what she might find.

 

\---

 

The others stood behind Luna—all except for one.

 

Vulcana didn’t bother growling or sneering. Contempt was etched on her face, in the way she disdainfully held herself. _You are less than me,_ she said in her own, wordless way. _Less. And I will not put up with you._

 

No. Not today. Today, she would put up with them whether she wanted to or not.

 

“What you have done,” Luna said, her voice low and cold, “is unacceptable.”

 

Vulcana’s eyes tightened. The embers on the Quilava’s back burned low and she pawed the ground idly, her forelimb tight with unspoken power.

 

Luna tried not to be afraid of her. Vulcana was strong, so much stronger than any of them individually, and as she’d just proven, she was capable of—of outright murder.

 

“We decided, as a group, not to kill,” Luna said, her voice cold. “And you _executed_ that Rattata.”

 

The Quilava snorted. “The little thing was our enemy. There is nothing wrong with defeating enemies.” She moved to walk away.

 

“ _Don’t you turn away from me._ ”

 

Luna’s voice, sharp and resonant, shocked even _her._ Vulcana paused and then slowly spun back.

 

“We are a _team,”_ Luna said, gritting her teeth. “You are _part_ of this team. And that means that you have to play by our rules or we all suffer!”

 

Nostrils flaring, Vulcana breathed in and out—in, and out. She took a step towards Luna, and then another. Luna didn’t run, though her hackles raised. Vulcana was _dangerous._ She felt the other pokemon cringe back behind her, though she didn’t turn to look at them. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to turn back.

 

“Suffer?” Vulcana said, her voice low and even and very, very frightening. “Rui is in there suffering right now because her self-imposed fetters made her a target for weak trainers. How many _times_ must I watch the world poison itself, must I watch my friends and allies make mistakes, while I am told that doing nothing about it is a _virtue?_ ” Her eyes swept off Luna and challenged the other pokemon behind her. “The sad fact is that if you want good things to happen, sometimes you have to make hard choices. Choices others will look down on you for.” The light on her back began to blaze hotter. “Sometimes you have to choose, and if you have to hurt others to let a good thing happen, then you _do it._ ”

 

There was a small, quiet moment, and then Striga replied, their voice soft but piercing: “Is that how the humans who did this to us justified it to themselves?”

 

“This isn’t right.” Cap’s voice came right behind Luna’s right ear. “Hurting others is… sometimes necessary. We can’t all be superheroes.” Her brother’s voice was somber; Luna wondered if he was thinking of the destruction in Eclo Canyon. “But it should never be your first instinct. You should only do it if you had to. But that Rattata… he didn’t have to die.”

 

Chuffing, Vulcana took a step back, her face haughty as ever. But behind the arrogance was a faltering confidence, Luna thought. A tiny dimming of the white-hot light in her eyes. “You sound like my brothers,” she mentioned. “Unwilling, despite your potential…”

 

She turned to leave a second time. After a few steps, Luna’s voice called out once more. “We are a _team,_ ” she repeated. “And if you won’t play by our rules or listen to what we have to say… then I guess you’re not part of that team.”

 

The silence was like a knife.

 

“No,” Vulcana replied, her voice soft. She did not turn around. “It seems that I’m not after all.”

 

\---

 

An island amidst the dark ocean. The island soon encompassed all, and soon Rui was stumbling through a thicket of shadowy vines. Behind these vines, she could sense visions of far-off places: dry deserts and towering skycrapers. Orre and Kanto. Saffron and Phenac. Two cities haunted by her loss…

 

A wash of sweat coated her and her muscles screamed for release. The tiny pinpricks of the quills still throbbed, like recent injections from the doctor, and she was dimly aware that this phantom land, with all its mirages, was something that was not.

 

She stumbled into a clearing and almost broke for sobs. There were two people sitting by a small, cozy fire.

 

“Hello, Rui,” her mom said with a warm smile, patting the dry log she sat on. Wes sat a few paces away, jacketless and Snag Machine-less, tending the fire. He too wore a comforting smile.

 

Without a word, Rui crossed the clearing and settled down between them. The space was almost perfect. “I…” She trailed off. Her voice was ragged and she did not know what to say.

 

Her mother reached over and began threading her fingers through Rui’s hair, as she had done when Rui was a girl. Their hair colors matched each other. “Sweet thing,” her mother said, her voice rich. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“You’re speaking perfect Kantonian,” Rui replied, her voice soft. Her mother had always struggled with the language, and as a family, they spoke Unovan at home more or less exclusively.

 

“Yes, I am,” her mother replied with a mild laugh. She continued stroking Rui’s hair. “There is so much we didn’t get to do,” she said again. The firelight was soft on her face. “Don’t be ruled by what you didn’t get to do. And make sure you spend time with those you love. Don’t let arguments linger.”

 

Rui nodded.

 

Wes shifted on the other side of her. She looked at him. “Hey,” he said with a boyish grin. “We had a wild few weeks, huh?”

 

“It feels like longer,” she replied, because it had. “You were my first real friend…”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Not counting the two tykes, you were mine too.” He settled back with a sigh. “You’ve had some rough stuff happen to you. I did, too. Ask Cap and Luna about it sometime.” He gazed heavensward. Rui followed his gaze—the sky was a shifting watercolor of blue and purple, stars and galaxies ebbing against each other. “Sometimes I wanted to get mean, cause of how hard things were, but I never did. And when I realized I was losing myself… I had to take steps so I wouldn’t.”

 

Rui lowered her gaze to find that he was looking at her. His eyes blazed with intensity. “Don’t lose yourself, Rui,” he said. “You can fight, but don’t lose yourself.”

 

Shivering, she pulled the coat he had lent her tight around her body and merely listened to the fire snap and crackle.

 

“…this is all just a dream, isn’t it,” she said.

 

“Perhaps,” answered her mother.

 

She pulled the coat tighter. “I want it to be real.”

 

Wes smiled at her. “Why can’t it be?”

 

Thinking it over, Rui nodded. “Stay with me… until I wake up. Please.”

 

They didn’t say they would. They didn’t have to.

 

\---

 

She was alone. As always.

 

Vulcana had left the building where the other pokemon—not her team, not her friends, not her _anything_ —stood waiting for Rui and curse it all, Vulcana cared, she _cared_ whether the girl lived or died, she cared though she had promised herself not to care and didn’t they understand how it all worked, you _had_ to take harsh steps, you _had_ to be cruel, sometimes the only way to find light was to dabble in darkness and what was that rat but nothing, _nothing,_ nothing at all, how many had she killed in her time and yet those weaklings found it in themselves to care about an enemy who had assisted in almost killing their trainer--

 

She stalked the dusty streets, stone-faced and scowling, and people and people both knew to get out of her way. They looked at her and saw a mere half-grown starter and they still feared. How would they react if they knew what she was truly capable of? She could have taken all of the others, shadows and non-shadows alike, and won, but she didn’t out of deference for her trainer.

 

Her trainer?

 

_I don’t have a trainer. Rui is not my trainer._

 

It was a mantra Vulcana had repeated to herself over and over the past few weeks. It had been her way to avoid tethering herself to Rui, to the team, to a cause she did not believe in. But today, after the confrontation with Luna and the others, it became instead a deep ache, a wound she didn’t realize would hurt until it was struck.

 

Alone. Again.

 

Now she was running, sprinting through the streets of Pyrite, lost amidst the push and pull of her own emotions. The sky burned into dusk overhead. She would not falter now. She would master herself. She would!

 

Finding a barren lot at the edge of town, she curled into herself in the shade of a boulder. All of the mistakes she had committed in her long life—mistakes she was afraid to even admit were mistakes—seemed to pile on her. She could feel the judging eyes of her brothers, though it had been so long since she’d seen them…

 

Her master. Rui. Both were lost to her now. She had to find some way to get them back.

 

And against her will, for the first time in a long, long time, Vulcana began to cry, hating herself all the while.

 

\---

 

The pokemon split the time in the hospital room, always having at least one standing sentinel over her. Four days had passed since the poisoning and she was past the point where her life was in peril, though none knew when Rui would wake.

 

As luck would have it, it would be a little past three in the morning, with Luna standing guard.

 

She heard Rui flutter awake—not the quiet whimpers of past days but true awakening. “Wh—where…”

 

“You’re in the hospital,” Luna replied, keeping her voice soft. She padded close and let the rings on her ears and tail glow, filling the room with low light. Even this was enough to cause Rui to squeeze her eyes shut.

 

The girl tried to rise and then sunk against the pillow with a whimpered moan.

 

“Easy,” Luna said. “You can take your time getting up. Easy.”

 

“I feel… like trash,” Rui mumbled. Her voice was slurred and her eyes fought to stay open but Luna could almost hear the girl’s mind working behind it all.

 

“Good,” Luna said. “Then that means that you’re awake enough to tell that you need to recover. The doctors say the worst of it is out, but your system is still flushing. You were lucky it was only a Nidoran.”

 

“D’you guys feel like this every time you fight a Poison-type? Cause hot damn, this sucks…”

 

Luna couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “Pokemon are made of stronger stuff than humans. We can fight it off a little better.” The smile fell. “Listen. I need to tell you… about Vulcana.”

 

After bringing her up to speed, Luna lamented: “She just disappeared. It’s been two days now and she isn’t coming back… I’m sorry. You were down and we had to take a stand against her. I hoped that she would reconsider her behavior and _want_ to join us, but…”

 

“S’alright,” Rui said. She heaved a big sigh and then cringed a bit from it. “She made… her choice.” Grimacing, she moved her hand out from under her cover and Luna pressed against it. “I would have scolded her for it too.”

 

Her hands scratched at Luna’s ears, and the Umbreon sat there, enjoying the sensation. “I’m sorry,” Rui whispered. “For yelling at you the other day. I shouldn’t have.”

 

“It’s okay,” Luna replied.

 

A noncommittal sound snaked out of Rui’s throat. “No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t rely on the Machine so much. I’m just…”

 

“You’re doing your best,” Luna said softly. It was true. She had thought it over since their fight. Rui was making mistakes, but she was trying.

 

“Yeah. But I want it to be _Rui’s_ best, not this… fake girl I have in my head.”

 

The scratching stopped but the hand remained, and Luna pressed against it. “It’s a start, trainer.”

 

With mutual forgiveness filling the room, Rui sighed and sank back into sleep.

 

\---

 

Now that she was out of the worst of it, Rui parsed over her half-remembered recovery. There were vivid dreams of a violent sea and mutable islands, so real they seemed to be life itself, and watery, half-remembered encounters which Rui had written off as dreams but had actually happened. Thoreau had come by covertly, attended by Duking and whispering words of encouragement, attempting to bring her up to speed on how the pieces of the Brotherhood were slowly dying, one by one. “Wes started that and you’re working too,” he said. “You can pull through.” Ximena had been there one day, holding her hand tight with tears in her eyes. “ _Fuerza, hermanita,_ ” she’d said, squeezing Rui’s hand as though she could press fortune itself into her. “ _Luchó por ti_.” Tama had been there that day, watching fixatedly.

 

She slowly recovered, and about two days after she woke up and had the conversation with Luna, the doctors told Rui she was ready to leave the next morning. When she inquired about payment, they waved her off, telling her that a sizable sum had come in from Agate.

 

 _Thanks, Grandpa,_ she thought.

 

That night, her last in the hospital, she dreamed once more.

 

She was standing on a high Orresian plateau at dusk, a tremendous fight playing out on the battle beneath her. This was no mere pokemon battle; this was full-on war. Warriors wearing pelts rode pokemon into battle, waving tooth-studded clubs, while their adversaries chucked spears, yelling war cries as their own pokemon breathed fire and water at the enemy.

 

The telltale aura of shadow pokemon was present—but only on one side. “What…?” Rui asked herself, confused.

 

“ _The region has borne the stains of that conflict for ages since.”_

 

The voice was airy, and knowing, and feminine in the way that misty waterfalls and lunar light is feminine, a cascade of quiet power.

 

Rui turned around, whipping her head forward and back. “Who is it? Who is there?”

 

The airy voice came again. “ _I want to stop what is happening now. Before the region becomes this once more._ ” Again, Rui’s attention was drawn to the distant battlefield.

 

“You know… how to stop it?”

 

_“Know? There is nothing to know. There is only action—action which I cannot take alone.”_

 

Rui felt like she was being prodded to say something. To offer help. But she remained silent.

 

Gradually the scene melted around her, and she went from a plateau top to a grassy glade ringed by trees. “ _You will see me soon. And, perhaps, we may have help to offer each other.”_

 

“If you know so much,” Rui asked guardedly, “then tell me. What caused all this?”

 

“ _That’s difficult to say. Perhaps it began with the Aueriteks, who made shadow pokemon for the first time. Perhaps it began with the great entity that even they dared not wake, whose power they leeched for their own twisted rites. But this crisis largely can be traced back to one individual, who made a fateful choice nearly half a century ago…”_

 

“Half a _century?_ Who is it?”

 

“ _I dare not provoke them by naming them._ ” The glade stirred blades of grass drifting as if in a breeze and leaves dancing lightly on the trees. “ _I am not as powerful as I seem, Rui Matsuhara. But come north and meet with me, and we may find assistance in one another._ ”

 

The meadow began to fade, becoming little more than soft green light.

 

“ _A final warning. The one I dare not name knows of you, and you of them. Remain watchful…_ ”

 

The dream faded, and her eyes snapped open.

 

It was nighttime, but not dark in the room. Small filled it with red and orange light.

 

“Vulcana?” Rui whispered.

 

The Quilava wound close, her form lithe and sinuous. “Rui,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I suppose you know.”

 

“Yes,” she replied. “You did… a very bad thing.”

 

Vulcana’s face tightened. “That Rattata was _nothing._ He doesn’t matter. We showed others we are dangerous, so they won’t attack us again. I did it for you! To _help_ you!”

 

“I don’t need that kind of help,” Rui said softly. “Did you ever consider that?”

 

The Quilava staggered back. Evidently she hadn’t.

 

“You… my m-master…” Her voice was ragged. “No matter what I try, I can’t please you… I can’t please anyone. I’m so strong. I try so hard. Why am I such a _failure?_ ”

 

“You’re confused,” Rui said. Gritting her teeth, she angled herself into a half-sitting position in the bed. “Vulcana, it’s not your fault you’re a shadow pokemon. The bad people did this to you. They make you feel this way. But you have to _choose,_ like the others did, to try and fight it with my help.”

 

She’d meant it as an appeal, an olive branch, but the Fire-type simply grew more withdrawn. “What if there’s nothing wrong with what I do? What if you’re wrong?” she challenged. “I’m doing—everything I do is for my masters, you and them—!!”

 

“Vulcana…” Rui said soothingly. It didn’t work. The Quilava was hyperventilating, her breaths coming in violent, erratic bursts. If only Rui knew how to help her…

 

But she knew a way to see what was hurting her.

 

Closing her eyes, Rui found Aura and began opening it…

 

 _“DON’T LOOK AT ME!_ ”

 

The sudden, baying scream jolted Rui out of her reverie. She snapped open and stared at Vulcana.

 

“You promised,” Vulcana said in a betrayed whisper. “You promised you would always ask, you _promised._ ”

 

“I’m sorry!” Rui cursed herself inwardly. She tried to sit up more, groaning, but fell back. “I… I forgot. I’m still a bit dizzy from recovery.” She took a breath in. “But Vulcana… are you so ashamed for me to see your aura? Are you ashamed to have me see that you’re a shadow pokemon?”

 

“I—I’m—”

 

“It’s _not your fault you’re like this,_ ” Rui said. “The people who made you, the minds behind the shadow pokemon plan… they’re the bad ones. They’re monsters who make good pokemon suffer for their own personal reasons!”

 

Vulcana was very quiet.

 

“We’re not like them,” Rui pressed. “I know that you think that being harsh and—and killing is necessary and it can get us what we want but we’re _not like them._ Do you understand? We can’t be like those who think corrupting pokemon is good. We need to be better!”

 

The Quilava sat there for a silent beat, and then a second, and when she raised her eyes, it was with a look of haunted, betrayed despair. “You’re wrong,” Vulcana said. “I know—I _know—_ that hard choices need to be made sometimes. And if you’re still saying that I’m… that I’m _bad_ for making them, then I guess… I have no place with you or the others.”

 

“Vulcana! That’s not what I—!!”

 

But she had already nudged the door open.

 

“Farewell, trainer,” the Quilava whispered, turning around to face her one last time.

 

And like ash in the night wind, she was gone.


	15. Chapter 14

So she survived.

 

Though I would normally count this as a failure, in light of her abilities, perhaps we might consider it a sort of boon.

 

Our very trade is Aura. Having one who can not only perceive it but also interact with the pokemon could be what we need to finally perfect the process. Imagine if the 70% survival rate climbed to 90 or even 95%. We would be efficient in a way we almost couldn’t dream…

 

Your new role: see if she can be turned or recruited. Use whatever leverage you can. The High Council stands with me on this.

 

And, of course, should she not be amenable, return to your original plan and dispose of her. A useful tool that falls into rival hands is nothing more than a weapon.

 

We wait on you, Miror B.

 

—Shadow Pokemon Lab

Chief Ein

 

\---

 

It was hard, when they returned to the streets. Vulcana’s loss seemed to shadow their every step. And without her, battles seemed to go just a bit harder, and the criminals seemed to be that much more confident.

 

No… it wasn’t just for that reason.

 

Word about the ambush and her brush with death had gotten out. No longer was she the invincible hero. Miror B’s hesitancy to fight her directly was no longer seen as a badge of cowardice. Now the narrative was spun a different way: he had lulled her into a false sense of security to take her down, like a circling Swellow swooping down on a Sentret from above. She was a rookie, not a hero, and Duking was a fool for supporting her. When she’d had the run of the streets it had been an interesting sideshow, but now it was time to go back to the way things were.

 

Pyrite was Miror B’s once more.

 

Rui slunk back towards the mayor’s residence, exhausted and worn. They’d managed to chase off a mugger, but the man’s parting words had stung her like a dart: “I don’t know whether you still messing with Miror B’s shit is dumb or impressive. You think you’re gonna change anything here? That session in the hospital was just the start. You’ll be dead by Saturday.”

 

The poison was out, and other than some small pocked scars on her arms and a tendency to lose her breath faster than usual, she’d bounced back better than she’d hoped. But the hypervigilance that came with it—seeing assassins behind every stall, on every rooftop, in every corner—was too draining on her. She needed a pokemon out alongside her at all times to feel even remotely secure.

 

Right now, the pokemon in question was Denri. The Ampharos was a tall and solid presence, and his eyes scoped the path ahead for any threats. He had done most of the fighting against the mugger’s pokemon.

 

“Thanks, Denri,” Rui said, buttoning up her duster tight.

 

He eyed her. “For what?”

 

“For fighting with us. Not being angry that I Snagged you. Watching over me.”

 

He chuffed. “Angry that you Snagged me? You _saved_ me, boss. Nothing to get angry ‘bout. And that other stuff is just… stuff pokemon’re supposed to do for their trainers. Nothing too big.”

 

“Still,” she said. “I think trainers should spend more time thanking their pokemon.” She smiled. “So thanks.”

 

He didn’t say anything but she knew from the renewed spring in his step that he appreciated the words. The Ampharos was a complicated beast; his shadows manifested as spikes of white-hot, furious anger, but he could be kind and forthright when not gripped by it. He slept curled against his own tail, and Rui never saw one of the dark streams floating off of him in his dreams.

 

He was like Vulcana in that regard.

 

Fighting the urge to reach for Vulcana’s poke ball, Rui sighed. She still carried it. She wasn’t quite sure how Vulcana had managed to escape, given that poke balls were meant to keep pokemon from doing exactly that, but Luna suspected it had something to do with the fact that she’d been Snagged. “After severing the original connection, it could be that the new one the Machine creates imperfect. Everyone who knew died in Eclo Canyon; I guess all we’ll have are suppositions.”

 

Maybe she’d be back one day…

 

Denri’s arm in front of her jolted her out of her reverie. “Be careful,” he said guardedly. A woman about her age, short with a pixie cut of dyed maroon hair and shades perched on her forehead, was striding towards her confidently.

 

“Rui Matsuhara?” the woman asked cheerfully.

 

“Who’s asking,” she replied. If this was someone Duking was affiliated with, she’d have met her already.

 

“The name’s Reath, and I’m here to extended an invite to you.” She reached into a ragged black jean vest and pulled out a crisp-looking envelope. Rui thumbed it open cautiously as Denri glared down Reath, gathering power in his tail. The other woman seemed totally nonplussed.

 

“‘Today’s groovin’ new party is shakin’ tonight at the Red & White.’” Rui read from the card. “‘Don’t be foolin’; be golden!’” She glanced up. “Are you… kidding me?”

 

Reath’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “No way. Boss Miror B’s hosting a big shindig tonight and all the movers and shakers of Pyrite are gonna be there. You’re gonna attend, right? You _are_ a mover and shaker… right?”

 

“It’s a trap,” Rui said as Denri nodded his agreement. “I’m not going to put myself in his clutches.”

 

Reath’s hollow laughter rang across the dusty streets and corrugated roofs. “If the boss wanted you dead, he’d have just pulled the plug on the machines in the hospital. Pulling through the poisoning impressed him, Matsuhara. He wants to talk with you. Besides,” she said, lowering her sunglasses from her forehead over her eyes, “it’s his club, and there’s gonna be lots of people there. He could bring you down if you wanted, but your shadows would result in a lot of collateral—and he doesn’t want to unnecessarily pay off damages to his club or have paying customers spooked into staying away. So it’s in his best interest not to move against you.” The woman turned down a side street and strolled away. “The choice is yours,” she said, her voice ringing high. “The whole town will be watching their new hero’s bravery—or cowardice.”

 

\---

 

“You’re not actually going, are you?”

 

Rui paused in pulling on her boots. She glanced at the pokemon who had spoken up. Argyle, the Noctowl, looked at her with concern. He was the pokemon she’d chosen to leave behind on this trip.

 

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t think Miror B will make a move against me while I’m in such a public place, even one owned by him. Besides, I can’t…” She paused, trying to articulate her next words the right way. “I can’t afford _not_ to go,” she said. “This could be our big break to finally move against him.”

 

“But it’s dangerous,” said Argyle, shuffling his wings around. “You shouldn’t put yourself out there like that…”

 

Rui laughed, the sound pealing like a bell. “But don’t you pokemon put yourselves out there every day? When that Nidoran attacked, I realized just how dangerous it is for all of you. It’s not fair for you to be the only ones who take risks. I’m guiding this team, so…”

 

She trailed off, sighing, and then hugged the Noctowl tight. “I can’t promise I’ll be okay, but I’ll have the rest of the team with me. Alright?”

 

Pressed against her as he was, she barely heard his next words: “Are you not bringing me because I failed to protect you?”

 

“No. No!” She pulled away. “Argyle, I don’t blame you for what happened, okay? I just have to leave someone here, and you’ve been fighting hard. That’s all.”

 

“Okay.” He looked small and defeated, like he didn’t believe her.

 

She cursed inwardly. She’d have to help him through this, but not tonight.

 

“I mean it, okay?” She turned away to leave.

 

“Rui.”

 

Turning back, she saw his face changing, becoming thunderous. “If—if anyone hurts you again, I—”

 

He left the threat unspoken, but she saw the tendril of shadow swarming around him.

 

“Argyle. Breathe. Breathe. It’s not the beast’s day today.”

 

He started and forced himself to calm. The shadows went away, but with difficulty, like an old and rusty screw being taken out of its hole.

 

“Alright. Be safe.”

 

She nodded. It was time.

 

\---

 

When she arrived at the Red & White, Rui stopped to take it all in. The exterior looked like nothing special—just a massive, several-stories-large block of concrete and rusted steel that looked like an abandoned office building. A low-quality neon sung suspended near the second story proclaimed its name, and the whole thing squatted in the shadow of a large cliff. In some places the club was built right up against it.

 

The doorman smirked when he saw her and waved her in. She didn’t have to wait for him to check her invite or even show the warehouse boss’s pass. She wasn’t certain if that was a good sign or a bad one.

 

“Keep ready,” she told Reed, who was padding behind her. The Quagsire nodded slowly, his small eyes moving this way and that.

 

“Won’t let anything get you,” he rumbled, his voice low.

 

She stepped past the guard and through a dark hallway. Dark figures mobbed the hallway; two young women, pressed against a wall, grinded against each other, their voices low with laughter; smoke drifted from a cigarette held between the fingers of one. A young man was nibbling on the ear of a girl one or two years younger than him. Further beyond, some unfortunate was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious from booze or some other substance. The music driving in the background—a consistent march of four low beats, supplemented by flashy strings and electric piano—grew louder and louder. At the end of the hall was a set of metal stairs and as she ascended, the music peaked and the sound of cheering and ecstatic crowds met her ear.

 

And suddenly the color was upon her. The Red & White’s main stage was situated under a checkerboard ceiling which glowed with color upon color: magentas and cornflower blues and crimsons and amber yellows and silvers and verdant greens, all flashing and bright and glaring. In the center of the ceiling was a massive spinning ball and the light reflected off of it made a dazzling pattern across the walls. The dancers were on a floor that was also lighted up, and it morphed in time with the music, colors marching across it in lines and dancing counterwise in hypnotic spirals. As the songs reached their climax, machines belted out greyish smoke, and laser lights played through it, leaving afterimages of blue and green and red.

 

At the fringes of the room, the daily life of the club lived on. There were booths and tables, some close enough for people to cheer the dancers and rise to join, while others were sunk back against the wall, half-shrouded in shadow. Hard eyes and trails of smoke crept out of those recesses, and Rui fought to avoid shuddering. There was a well-stocked bar with attractive barkeeps of both genders, and many of the club’s attendees were flocking there. All across the room people drank and smoked and laughed and leered and caressed and got close. It was as if she had stepped into a private planet devoted to sensory overload and debauchery, kept right here in the heart of Pyrite Town.

 

And there were no pokemon anywhere.

 

As Rui gaped, the two girls who had been grinding shoved their way past her, both red-faced and laughing. They scrambled onto the dance floor and began brushing up against each other flirtatiously, the changing lights and the glint from the spinning ball making them look like sprites from an old fairy tale. Rui took a step in after them and a burly man stopped her. “No pokemon allowed,” he growled, eying Reed. The Quagsire stared flatly back, unimpressed. “Recall it and exchange your poke balls.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “And leave myself defenseless in front of your boss?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the blaring music. “I don’t think so.”

 

The tough cracked his knuckles. “If you think I’m not willing to boot you outta here ‘cause you’re a girl…” He paused and held a finger to his ear. “Huh. Boss says you can keep your poke balls—but you still have to have them recalled. This place ain’t for animals.”

 

Reed shot her a flat look. “I’ll be okay,” she said, trying to put on a face braver than she felt. “You guys will be right at hand.” After she recalled him, the bouncer let her through.

 

“Thanks, jumbo,” she drawled, and the man’s flinty eyes narrowed. “So where can I find your boss anyway?”

 

“Dunno… _tiny._ Maybe look for yourself.”

 

Grumbling, Rui wandered through the club, trying not to be distracted by the haze of smoke or the onslaught of color and sound. _Miror B knows you’re here,_ she told herself. _Use that to your advantage._

The club was full of roiling, dancing, cheering people, all of whom looked like they couldn’t care less that most of Pyrite was living in dirt and scrounging for scraps. But amidst the brainless hedonism were knife-like eyes that followed her movements. The knife-eyed people led further and further back to a mirror-lined wall in the rear, with a single door set in it.

 

At first she thought about meandering her way there, but then Rui decided not to run. She strode towards it, delighting in the tense alarm that the knife-eyed ones displayed. Before making it to the mirror wall, a tall, gorgeous woman with dark skin, lean muscles, and long violet hair melted out of the crowd.

 

“No further.”

 

Rui beamed at the woman, idly keeping her hand on Reed’s poke ball in her jacket pocket. “I have an invitation, though.”

 

The woman strode closer. Rui was tall, for a woman, but this lady was even bigger, towering at least a full head higher. When she spoke, her voice was thick with a native Orresian accent. “I said, no further.”

 

For her part, Rui walked up until she stood only a few inches apart from her. “I’ve met scarier, lady,” she said.

 

Before the violet-haired woman could respond, rich laughter bubbled from behind her. “Spunky! I like her. Let her through, Ferma.” The woman’s nostrils flared, but she stepped back and let Rui enter the back room.

 

The mirrors were one-way, and the entire club was splayed out before her. The room was soundproofed to a degree, letting the high whistle of disco eke in as a sultry undercurrent. The man before her was flanked by two Ludicolo, which—despite their obvious power—were dancing happily to the beat.

 

The man between them was perhaps the gaudiest person Rui had ever seen.

 

He wore a disco suit of extravagant, shining orange-gold, the chest buttons slightly undone to reveal his pale, hairless chest, slightly sheened with sweat. His feet were kicked up on the desk in a relaxed and playful pose. His bellbottoms matched his suit in color, and his platform shoes had to extend his already towering height at least a good six inches. His eyes were hidden behind catseye shades with purple lenses, and enormous golden earrings in the shape of stars dangled from both ears. His hair was a massive afro which had to at least be the size of the disco ball outside, and it was colored so that the left looked crimson while the right was a snowy hue—looking like a poke ball turned on its side. It wasn’t a wig, Rui realized. She was pretty sure she knew where the club took its name from.

 

Miror B’s voice was slightly high for a man, though with a confident richness to it. “Welcome welcome,” he said, his voice crisp and slightly mocking. “I almost wondered if you ain’t gonna show.”

 

There was a chair set in front of the desk, but Rui walked around it and splayed on a couch behind it instead, making Miror B turn to look at her. She idly shifted her jacket so that her poke balls were on display. “I’m a hard girl to kill,” she said, her voice cold.

 

Miror B smirked. “Please, stella,” he said, “I ain’t my stooges. Don’t sell me no fakery.” He kicked off his desk with one of his platform shoes, the motion making him spin in his chair. “You a tough little trainer,” he said as the spin receded, “but I think we both know gruff words just ain’t _you_.”

 

“You don’t know me,” Rui shot back.

 

“Rui Matsuhara, age nineteen, daughter of Daishi and Anna Matsuhara, both deceased,” he recited. “Raised in Saffron City, Kanto. Attended Sangami High, mascot the Rhydons. Was an above-average student who struggled to make friends. Former owner of an Aipom named Pompom. Currently avoiding living with her grandfather by playing hero. A psychic capable of Aura reading and pokemon empathy. Simultaneously driven and aimless, hard and fragile, brave and very, _very_ frightened.” His smile grew tight. “I get enough right, little girl?”

 

She licked her lips, trying to dry her mouth. She moved her hands closer to her poke balls.

 

“Groovy,” he said. “Grab ‘em if it helps.”

 

Rui was abruptly struck by the idea that Miror B would only have let her enter the room with her pokemon if he found her unthreatening despite it.

 

“No need to tense up, cool cat,” he said with another mocking laugh. He stood, his afro bumping the ceiling of his office, and stretched his long limbs. “We here to jive, yeah? Let the music play!”

 

At his command, one of the shuffling Ludicolo hit a button on the wall. The sound from outside faded away, and new music blared from a hidden sound system: a disco mix of Miror B’s own creation. He moved to the spot opposite Rui’s couch, where there was a small pad apparently just for this purpose. And then, flanked by his Ludicolo, he started to dance.

 

Rui didn’t know that much about disco, but the man was a natural. His movements were grandiose yet smooth, exaggerated yet it seemed the dance would have been lost without it. This wasn’t an affectation—the man _loved_ disco. Everything from his clothes to his hair to his funky music was part of who he was. And despite how carefree and silly he seemed…

 

There was very little doubt that Miror B was a dangerous man, and she had a good chance of leaving the building in a body bag.

 

Well. Maybe he was onto something with this whole “be yourself” thing.

 

“C’mon, stella,” he said, “come and boogie down! I don’t trust a cat who can’t keep her feet.”

 

“I’m not a dancer,” Rui said, because it was true.

 

He grunted in affirmation. “Fair ‘nuff, fair ‘nuff. Stop the music!” One of the Ludicolo killed the sound and he sprawled back into his chair, his chest heaving with appreciative exertion.

 

“What’s life without a bit of fun, eh stella?” he said. “Every cat should be able to enjoy hisself. Anything else is just bogus.”

 

“You wanted me here?” Rui said.

 

“Sure, sure.” He stretched. “Listen, I just want to jive with you, aight? You a tough gal. But you in way, _way_ over your head here. I’m not even the top cat. You ever hear someone talk about the cipher?”

 

Rui could only imagine the blank look on her face.

 

Miror B nodded. “Be glad you haven’t.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face, and suddenly everything changed—the carefree mood of the dancer was gone, and she got the sudden, disquieting sense that every word she spoke could have major ramifications. This was as much the real Miror B as the goofball had been.

 

“So I’mma give you a deal,” he said. “You done attracted the attention of people bigger than you. They interested. You want your life, you deal with ‘em. If not, I kill you.”

 

“That’s… really blunt for a negotiation.”

 

He shook his head with a wry smile. “This ain’t a negotiation, cool cat.” He gestured out onto the floor. “You know how much I make in a night? Not just door fees. Booze, food, illicits, flesh. I peddle it all after sundown and it rakes in so much, girlie, you can’t imagine. And that’s just the club. All the toughs on the street give me a cut if they don’t want they house burned down. Pokemon trafficking’s a big deal in a region where wilds are as scarce as they are, and I move it. The whole west is caught in a web I done spun from Pyrite, and now that the Brotherhood is gone, the east is ripe for the picking.”

 

He took off his glasses and she saw his eyes for the first time. They were a faded green, almost cloudy, and they blazed with intelligence and playfulness and cruel, childlike malice. “Keep that all in mind when I tell you the next bit: those people you messing with? The folks behind the shadow pokemon? To them, I might as well be a B-lister. I have clout but ain’t nobody pretending I call the shots to folk like _them_.”

 

He pushed the glasses back on. “You in too deep, stella. Way too deep. Your moves can’t keep up. D’you know how many shadow pokemon there are? I ain’t exactly got the lion’s share. You gonna hunt them all down one at a time? And then what? Huh? Live with a bunch of crazy monsters?”

 

“They’re my friends,” she said, her voice trembling. “Don’t _talk_ about them like that.”

 

“Hey, girlie, I like ‘em too,” he said, gesturing at the still-dancing Ludicolo. “But let’s not pretend animals be _people_. Total bogus.” He leaned forward. “And I mean it, cool cat. You say no to this offer, _they will kill you._ I done got an offer like that myself, once. Back when I flew solo. My gang was on the up-and-up, coming close to rule Pyrite, and then I met someone who showed me how big the world really was.” He shrugged. “But they treat you well.”

 

“If I say no, are you going to have those Ludicolo kill me?” Rui asked quietly.

 

He chuckled. “Here? Naw. Too messy. Don’t want no scene in front of the revenue.” He nodded at the dancing mass outside. “But there’d be no rush anyway. I can arrange for you to meet something nastier than a Nidoran next time.”

 

She shuddered despite herself. “I’ll… think about it,” she said.

 

There was long silence, and then Miror B nodded once. She didn’t have to see his eyes to understand. They both knew she was going to say no, but they had to play the game for now. “I be putting together a big tournament in my colosseum,” he said. “Winner gets everything they ever want. Starts end of next week. I don’t hear something by then… I’mma assume the answer’s ‘no.’”

 

“‘Your’ colosseum?” she rejoined. “I’ve seen Duking’s records. You don’t own the colosseum.”

 

He slapped his knee laughing. “Aw, _babe_ ,” he said. “You ain’t that dumb.”

 

She licked her lips again. “This tournament… are shadow pokemon allowed in?”

 

His eyebrows rose. “Sure are. You thinking about participating?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“‘Fraid you need an invitation to get in, cool cat. And I only be handing ‘em to people I trust.”

 

“Fine.” She turned around, hating that her back was exposed to him. The moment she did, little dry whistles like someone pretending to shoot something met her ears. She turned around to find Miror B pointing a finger gun at her back. He smiled toothily. “Ferma can show you out, hon.”

 

And she did.

 

When the lights and music of the Red & White were behind her, and Duking’s walls enclosed her as best they could, she released her pokemon and brought them up to speed.

 

“So we have a week and a half before he guns for us,” Argyle said. All of them had agreed that joining up wasn’t even an option.

 

“What’s this tournament prize mean, anyway?” asked Cap. “Winner gets what they want?”

 

“Duking’s men on the street say that Miror B’s made it clear that he’s offering the winner of the tournament one favor—no strings attached, no copouts, no loopholes. Ask him to do something and he’ll do it.”

 

Denri whistled. “With his influence, that’s a lot of stuff you could get. Pretty good way to show the unaffiliated scum in Pyrite who they should join up with. Not to mention that it’s probably going to be an extended audition of battling prowess.”

 

“Yeah.” Rui grinned. “How do you think he’d take it if I won his stupid tournament, then demanded in front of all Pyrite’s criminal underworld that he stop distributing shadow pokemon?”

 

The pokemon sat in shocked silence.

 

“…he’d be screwed,” said Argyle. “If he backed down on honoring his deal, then the Pyrite toughs know he might double-cross _them_ in future promises. It’d erode his support majorly. But if he listened to you and stopped, his suppliers would probably just have him killed.”

 

“Yeah. Either way, I doubt they’d be happy.” She grimaced. “He’s right that our street-level stuff isn’t making much difference. We need to hit the real culprits—the people supplying him and the Brotherhood. If we get them into play somehow, then putting Miror B in a bind… raising even the threat of their shipments here being stopped… that’s the best I can come up with.”

 

Reed slapped his tail against the floor. “But Miror B said you’re not allowed to participate.”

 

“Did he though?” Rui smirked. “He just said it was invitation only and that I didn’t have one. Nothing says I can’t obtain one through other means.”

 

“Are we gonna beat people up and steal their stuff?” Denri asked, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

 

“Yeah, but they’re criminals.” Rui grinned. “So I think it’s okay.”


	16. Chapter 15

Rain comes even to the desert, and when it does, it thunders. When water touches the sands it does so from great grey curtains that smother the sky, the air oppressive with the smell of humidity and ozone, and the sound of faraway cracks and gusting winds seems like the pealing of dark and distant bells.

 

Desert rains are not like normal rains. They are soul-changing experiences, life-altering events that inevitably drive some indoors to shelter from the offensive while other, more constrained souls, emerge triumphant in the water, basking in the cleansing shower that comes only but a few times a year.

 

Rui blinked against the water blitzing her face, scowling. Her entire body was soaked through, the driving winds of the storm chilling her to her soul. The gales beat her duster around her legs, making it whip out behind her like she was a cowboy from an old movie.

 

The man she was battling with had his face half-covered with his arm, and his cocky smirk had given way to a frustrated grimace.

 

“Give it up, Cail!” Rui shouted, having to strain her voice to be heard over the weather. Miror B’s tournament was a mere week away and she had finally tracked down someone with an invitation.

 

Cail, a self-described “rogue,” had blown in from near Gateon up north. He was twentysomething, with a lean build and a sneering face and neon green hair. A street battler and hired gun of some repute, he hoped to make a name for himself under the watchful (and recruiting) eye of the man who seemed poised to become Orre’s new King of Crime. Miror B had indulged him with an invite to the tournament.

 

How fearsome his reputation was. How mighty his battling skills were said to be. And yet, once she had cornered him at the top of an old warehouse near Pyrite’s edge, how quickly his team had fallen. A Machoke lay splayed against the roof wall, panting, and his other pokemon, a Kirlia, had already been dispatched. Both pokemon had been taken care of by Cap, though the Machoke had landed a blow strong enough that the Espeon was recuperating in his ball. Denri was out now, his tail glowing a fierce red and electricity sparking from his hands in a small reflection of the lightning that rampaged in the sky above.

 

The two pokemon were all Cail had. Orre was Orre—very few could afford numbers.

 

“You’re done,” Rui said. “The battle is _finished,_ Cail. Give me the token to enter the tournament.”

 

The street ground his teeth together, looking full-on murderous. “They told me about you,” he said. “Told me to watch out for you.”

 

She folded her arms. “I’m not going to repeat myself again.” In solidarity with her, Denri allowed a series of large sparks to shoot off of his tail bauble. He tensed up and a single, sharp stream of shadow energy knifed off of him.

 

“Easy,” Rui said, her voice low. All the shadow pokemon had seen improvements, but there was always the risk of resurgence. Denri’s stance didn’t weaken, and she feared that her voice had been swallowed by the storm.

 

“Maybe I took certain steps to avoid falling afoul of you,” Cail taunted. His face and tone of voice belied his words—he was in a corner and showed it in every way. “Maybe I invested in something like _this!”_

 

With a flash, he released a _third_ pokemon.

 

“A Furret?” Rui scoffed. “Not exactly the most threatening—”

 

Lightning flashed above, and the Furret snarled, and streams of darkness rose off of him like steam from vents. _Shadow pokemon._

 

Rui tensed. “Be careful, Denri,” she warned, “that pokemon is like you.” But looking close, it wasn’t like Denri at _all._ The Furret was extremely cold-eyed and nothing within it looked friendly or even sapient. It was worse than Tama and Argyle had been before she’d Snagged them. It looked feral, barely more than an animal.

 

Denri and the Furret eyed each other warily. The Furret snarled again and Denri responded in kind, more dark streamers going off of him. Rui cursed inwardly. Not only had Argyle been acting aggressive earlier, bad enough that he’d ignored her orders and she’d needed to recall him, but today was a bad day for another pokemon as well? “Denri,” she said, “remember, you can’t—”

 

“She’s distracted! Do it!”

 

At Cail’s command, the Furret dutifully shot off like a bullet. Denri roared and sent lightning arcing overhead. The Furret squirmed underneath it and—

 

And _past_ Denri.

 

He was aimed right at her.

 

Oh, gods. Not again.

 

Flashbacks to the Nidoran in the alley reached her. The pokemon was coming straight for her.

 

She was going to die. She was going to die like Wes in the morning.

 

Screaming, she scrambled back, tripping over her own feet. Her bag went flying, many of the poke balls scattering across the roof. Two tumbled over the side. The Furret was almost at her. He was—

 

Denri’s paw clamped around the creature’s tail and with a roar, the Ampharos swung it overhead and smashed it against the rooftop. “ _Don’t hurt my trainer!”_ he roared, and then swung again. The darkness off of him began spiking more and more. The creature still struggled, so he shocked it into unconsciousness.

 

Cail recalled the Furret, but before he could banter further, Denri screamed and shot a blast of lightning at him. Yelping, Cail threw himself aside, barely avoiding getting fried.

 

“Denri!” Rui cried in alarm. “Denri, no! Don’t attack him!” He didn’t listen. “Denri, _stop!_ ”

 

“Don’t—don’t— ** _don’t!_** ” Denri howled and shot lightning into the sky, making the storm go crazy. The shadows were spiking off of him now, and weren’t stopping.

 

The darkness had taken him.

 

Rui cursed, fumbling for the poke balls. They’d all scattered and she didn’t know which one was Denri’s! After failing to recall him with one, she threw it, commanding the inhabitant. “Stop him! Stop Denri!”

 

Light flashed, and Argyle emerged.

 

Argyle, who aggressive and would not listen.

 

“Oh no,” Rui breathed. Argyle’s eyes were cold and pitiless—‘the beast,’ he called it. Being swallowed by ‘the beast.’

 

“Argyle,” she breathed. “Argyle, don’t…”

 

But then Denri screamed, shadows spiking, and Argyle’s own shadows stabbed up into the sky, and he released a wave of psychic energy that knocked everything back and sent his own poke ball falling off the building.

 

“ _Shit!”_ Rui cried, looking down. There were three down there and three up top. Denri was advancing on the cringing Cail, and Argyle circled in the sky like a plane looking for a target to bomb.

 

The wind drove rain at them like needles, and lightning forked the air—sending an otherworldly pallor of light their faces.

 

None of the three poke balls she had left was Denri’s, but she released the pokemon inside: Striga, Tama, and Reed.

 

“Denri and Argyle have given in!” she said. “I don’t have their poke balls, _stop them!_ ” She turned to Striga. “The poke balls fell down there—get them for me, please!”

 

The little ghost’s eyes shone with fear. “I—I’ll try!” They zipped away.

 

Tama and Reed stood stalwartly next to each other, exchanged a deep and silent glance, and then marched into the fray.

 

“This isn’t you,” Reed said, his voice low and flat. Denri turned and glared murder around him, the shadows licking him like flames. And this was only what she saw on the surface; Rui didn’t know if she dared look at the Ampharos through Aura.

 

“They hurt,” Denri growled. “They hurt, they _hurt,_ I want to _hurt!_ ” Thunder pealed, rain drove, and with a bestial scream, he released his pent-up energy.

 

Lightning soared out of him and played across the storm, the roof, the water. The entire battlefield was a cacophony of electricity. A crackling sensation hit Rui and she grit her teeth; across the other side she heard Cail suffer through the same thing. But they were at the fringe—the pokemon got the worst of it.

 

Argyle screeched and tumbled from the sky, and Tama was forced back a few paces, groaning. Only Reed bore the onslaught uncomplaining. But Argyle, his feathers soaked and his body still shaking from the aftereffects of the electricity, was on him, wings buffeting and talons raking. His crest glowed with psychic energy and the air around him became illusory.

 

As Argyle and Reed grappled, Denri prepared a second attack. Tama crashed into him. Denri rose, his forehead gem glowing as he leered hatred at the Makuhita.

 

Tama was unmoved. “This is not you,” he said quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists. “We are better than this.”

 

“Talk, talk, talk,” Denri said with viciousness. He threw an electricity-laden punch that smashed Tama in his shoulder. “I want a **_fight!_** ”

 

Tama caught his second punch, twisting it back with swiftness that made Denri gasp and grimace. “Fighting is no end,” Tama growled, and then, shifting his weight, swung the Ampharos overhead in an arc. “Only means. The bad kind of means.”

 

In response, the still-prone Denri slammed his arm down into the puddle Tama stood in and filled it with electricity. It lit the roof and Tama wailed in sudden pain.

 

“Tama!” Rui cried, her voice nearly swallowed by the storm. “Denri, _stop!_ ”

 

But he wouldn’t. The shadows had him now, were swirling around him. It was like an infestation only she could see. And under their guidance, he held his arms up and the metallic scent of ozone, so strong you could almost taste it, congealed even sharper in the air.

 

Panic gripped her. The storm. _Lightning bolts._ Denri was making himself an impromptu lightning rod. If lightning struck, everyone except for him and possibly Reed would be killed!

 

“Reed, he’s trying to call down a bolt! _Stop him!_ ”

 

Although Argyle was still on him, cawing and pecking and scratching, Reed managed to shoot mud at Denri, which knocked him over and disrupted his concentration.

 

Perhaps five seconds later, the lightning struck.

 

Had Denri not been interrupted, it would have been curtains for them. As it stood, the bolt he’d attracted hit the nearby building on its lightning-rod instead. The bright flash and close, instantaneous, _booming_ thunderclap was as if someone dropped a bomb. The crashing sound was like nothing more than having a cannon fired right next to her ear, and the sheer force of it all knocked everyone, humans and pokemon, into a sprawl.

 

Her senses dizzy, Rui struggled. Her vision came back first, though it was watery. Her hearing was far-off and strangely whiny, like an old-fashioned TV with bad reception. Through the haze, she saw Reed hurl Argyle off of him finally, saw him swing his tail at Argyle, saw the bird counter with a wall of psychic energy, saw Tama stagger into Argyle from behind, grappling at him. Behind them all, Denri rose, both gems glowing a deep crimson red against the grey storm clouds.

 

Reed shot more mud at him and Denri swung wide to avoid it, both pokemon’s movements almost drunken after the disorienting thunderclap. Denri’s electricity released again, skipping across the water and making both Tama and Argyle cringe with pain. The peripheral effects made Rui curl up on herself, the sensation like being pricked across her body. Cail seemed to have fallen unconscious.

 

Reed was unaffected and moved at him, and Denri caught him with a roar, the two pokemon pressing their weight against each other like sumo wrestlers.

 

“Don’t do anything you regret,” Reed rumbled, and Denri only screamed a warcry in response, the rage consuming him.

 

For the other two, Argyle d recovered first and was beating Tama with his talons and beak, the latter cringing beneath the Flying-type attacks.

 

“Tama,” Rui whispered. “Tama!” She was powerless to interfere. Any of the shadow pokemon—even an errant blow from Tama or Reed—could wipe her out. “Tama, please, _no!”_

 

And then Striga was there, two poke balls levitating. “Here!” they cried, looking with horror as their friends savaged each other. “I—I dropped the other one cause of the thunderclap! I’ll come right back!” They dove again.

 

Cursing, Rui realized one of the poke balls—a chipped, battered old thing—was Cap’s. She didn’t dare send him out into this melee, tired as he was. She tried the other one and Argyle was sucked back in a vortex of light.

 

Tama slowly staggered to his feet and plodded towards Denri and Reed.

 

“Tama, you’re hurt, that’s enough!” Rui said, fishing for his poke ball.

 

“Friends,” he muttered, his voice almost a slur. “Help them… not fall.” He wove around Denri to the Electric-type’s tail and grabbed it with both hands. The Ampharos whipped around, eyes shocked. “Sorry,” Tama said, and then with a grunt, swung the Ampharos in a spiral by his tail, smashing him into the rooftop. As Denri struggled, the shadows still needling around him, Reed strode up, turned around, and smashed his giant tail into Denri’s chest.

 

That ended the fight. Denri lay there, groaning, and the shadows slowly ebbed away. As Striga brought Rui the second ball and she readied it, Denri turned his head and she caught his face.

 

Shock, at what he’d done. Shame. Regret. The Denri she knew was finally back.

 

He swallowed and said nothing as she recalled him. With a grunt, she rose and recalled Tama, who swayed on his feet. Supported by Reed, she was carried over to the still-fainted Cail. She pulled the shadow Furret’s poke ball off of him, as well as a small embossed ring with the words “Red & White” engraved on the outside.

 

Her heart was racing from seeing her pokemon that way. She wanted to scream. To fight. To do anything.

 

No. If she was anything, she was… tired. Just tired. “I’ll tell the cops about him when we get home,” she muttered wearily. As she put the token away, she took a long look at Denri and Argyle’s poke balls. “Let’s… let’s just go.”

 

\---

That evening, Luna stood across from Reed, who was now covered in bruises and bandages. “Thank you,” she said. “Really. Tama and Striga participated too, but if it wasn’t for you…”

 

Reed grunted, a sound that was neither affirmation nor rejection. He was good at that.

 

Luna sighed and laid on her stomach, crossing her front paws and resting her chin on them. “We’ve had shadows go berserk on patrol before—Striga, Tama, even you—but never two at once.” Yellow light filled the room—she was shining brighter than she’d meant to in her worry. She dimmed her patterns.

 

“It was never a big deal before,” Reed grumbled. “We could always rely on Vulcana to keep them in check…”

 

Luna exhaled. Despite how much she’d hated Vulcana, the Quagsire was right. She’d kept the other shadows in line no problem and had never succumbed until the day she killed that Rattata.

 

And even then, Vulcana hadn’t become bestial so much as… cold. Even colder than normal.

 

“You’re right, Reed,” she said, her voice soft. “Even in the rain, even two on one… Vulcana probably could have stopped it immediately.”

 

“We made it work,” he said softly.

 

She smiled at him. “You did a good job. Thanks.”

 

The praise seemed to make the Quagsire shrink, rather than grow. “I didn’t do anything,” he muttered, looking away. “Just… did what I’m told.”

 

Ears twitching, Luna looked at him. “Reed, are you okay?”

 

He breathed, and when he spoke, his voice was flat—a little too flat. “I don’t like hurting pokemon. I don’t like doing bad things to them.”

 

“What happened with Denri isn’t your fault,” she replied. He still looked preoccupied. “You’re not talking about Denri,” she said softly. “Are you.”

 

He turned away.

 

She came closer to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

A long note of silence. “No.”

 

“Okay. I’ll respect that.”

 

He didn’t respond, or turn to face her again, but she read relief in his shoulders. “Luna, you’re a good leader.”

 

“Pfeh. I wasn’t even there today,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

 

“Not your fault Rui didn’t bring you.” And, Luna had to admit, it had been a good judgment call on the girl’s part. They’d gone in knowing little of Cail except that a Machoke was his ace. If you were going to leave a pokemon behind, why not make it the Dark-type?

 

“I know.”

 

“Luna, I…” There was a heavy sigh from Reed. “All I’m good for is following orders, and… and making others…”

 

 _Miserable,_ she finished for him. “That’s not true.” She brushed up against him, a gesture of comfort, and he flinched so sharply that she wondered if she hadn’t bothered one of his wounds.

 

“Please don’t do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Luna said. “I won’t ever.” Silence from him. “Reed?”

 

“…please, just… I need… alone.”

 

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft. She padded out of the room, but before she left, she turned one last time.

 

“You’re a good pokemon, Reed,” she said. “I mean it.”

 

He did not respond, and did not turn. But from the way his shoulders shook, she thought he was weeping.


	17. Chapter 16

Since so many wanted details, here are some of the ways we break pokemon to make them shadows.

 

In many cases, the old favorites get the job done. Physical pain is a big motivator, as is sleep deprivation and hunger. Harming (or killing) a trainer is usually enough to do the job, especially if we let the pokemon think they have a chance of surviving, but given that many of our pokemon are Snagged, this is not often an option. (Probably a good thing: even in Orre, it would be hard to simply write away the sudden disappearance of several hundred people.)

 

In other cases, a more creative punishment is required. We’ve used Electric-types as batteries, forced pokemon to breed, allowed Grass-types to be partially eaten, coerced mates to fight each other. On one memorable occasion, we lowered a Steel-type into the incinerator. After nursing it back to health (a rather lengthy process; several weeks were needed) we did it again. You’d be astounded at the ways you can put them through the wringer.

 

There are many ways, but the end result is the same: we bring them to their lowest point, and drag them to the White Room.  
  
Shadow Pokemon Lab  
—Chief Ein

  
\---  
  
Duking’s daughters played with the pokemon. Rui watched from down the hall as the two girls frolicked and gamboled with Tama and Luna and many other pokemon. They were doing so much for the poor pokemon—all of them looked happier for being around. Even the pokemon she barely used—Vein the Slugma, Garden the Skiploom, and now Tumble the Furret—were seeing marked improvements from being near the girls.  
  
Maybe there was hope after all.

 

The girls should have been in bed—or have been getting ready for it—but Duking was an indulgent parent and let them stay up well after dark. The girls’s infectious energy brought life to all the pokemon, and there wasn’t a hint of shadow to be seen.

 

A buzzing of a hall telephone (who still had a landline these days? Only Duking…) interrupted the girls. The younger of the two, Meg, wandered over to the receiver and cradled it. Frowning, she nodded once and uttered “uh-huh” before turning to Rui. “‘S for you!” she called.

 

Who would call her at Duking’s and not use her PokeNav number? Her grandfather, probably. Was he finally trying to reach out to her?

 

Pressing the receiver against her ear, she asked “hello?”

 

“Hey, cool cat,” came Miror B’s smooth voice from the other line. “Let’s gab for a minute, what you say?”

 

A chill settled on Rui. She had the sudden urge to hang up. “I’d rather not,” she replied coolly. “I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment.”

 

“Aw, stella, we both know you lying. You was watching them kids play with those critters a good several minutes. Hell, you even got mismatched socks on!”

 

She glanced down. Her feet were indeed shoeless—and she wore one pink sock on her right foot and a green one on her left.

 

Licking her lips, she tried to hide the tremor from her voice. “Wh-what do you want.”

 

Laughter. “Like I say: just to talk.”

 

“We’re talking now.”

 

Something in her voice had alerted the pokemon. They had stopped playing and were looking at her with concern—all except Cap, who was dozing, curled against a bureau further down the hall.

 

More laughter. “Aw, girlie, I know that, but I need to _see_ peeps I talk at, dig? So why not come on out here and chat?”

 

She glanced to the side. A few windows were open—the darkness outside was impenetrable. Was he lurking out there…?  
  
“I think I’m comfortable in here, thanks,” she replied, before continuing on more forcefully. “And you mentioned you wouldn’t touch me until the tournament.”

 

He made a _tch_ -ing sound over the line. “True, true. This what it like to be outsmarted? Stings, stella, _stings._ I can’t hurt you now, guess I better  tell my gunman looking in your window to put his bullet in the head of that sleeping Espeon—or them girls.” A short but pregnant pause. “Unless you wanna come out here.”

 

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. “I—I’ll talk.”

 

“Way to be, cool cat. Leave them pokemon behind, and your PokeNav too.” Before the words were even out there was a flurry of fierce knocks at the door at the end of the hall. The girls turned their heads to it, frowning, and the pokemon seemed ill at ease.

 

“I’ve… I-I’ve got it,” Rui stammered, hurriedly throwing on her duster (sans Snag Machine) and a pair of boots. The knocks continued hammering.

 

“Rui?” Argyle asked timidly. “Are you… okay?”

 

She looked at him and then looked away, still haunted by his feral descent the other day. That had been a nightmare atop the building. He’d come back to normal and expressed regret, but…

 

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered. Striding down the hall, she opened the door.

 

Everyone except for her tensed at the sight of Miror B. He was dressed differently today, wearing an open-chested purple jacket with no shirt (at night? part of her had to admire him) with slim pants of a matching color. His dark shoes were platforms, and his cats-eye shades had been ditched for visor-like mirrored ones. A yellow scarf draped loosely around his neck, and the same outrageous hairdo as before, completed the ensemble.

 

Scanning the hall, Miror B saluted the pokemon with a lazy wave. “Hey, cool crew,” he said affably. “I’mma just borrow your girl for a bit, aight?”

 

“Rui, what’s going on?” Luna asked.

 

“I’ll be okay,” she replied quietly, desperately hoping it was true.

 

Denri strode up to her. “Let me come with you at least. I can protect you!”

 

Rui looked at his earnest face. He’d been more than just contrite after the incident in the thunderstorm—he’d been positively haunted. Now he looked at her and she saw in his eyes the desperate need to be forgiven, to be trusted, to know that he hadn’t destroyed everything with that one bad day.

 

And Rui could use Miror B’s ultimatum as an excuse all she wanted. The truth was, after that night with Argyle and Denri on the roof, she was wary of her pokemon—all of them. She _didn’t_ trust herself around them, not even the siblings.

 

She turned away and felt Denri’s hurt betrayal boring into her back. “Stay here,” she said firmly. “All of you. That is an order from your trainer.” And she followed Miror B into the night.

 

He wandered, his scarf flapping in the cool night breeze. Rui dug her hands into her duster pockets and marveled that he displayed no reaction to the wind that must have been playing on his exposed, hairless, pale chest.  
  
Wordlessly, he led her into Pyrite’s streets, all dark and deserted. The shadows swallowed them soon enough. The darkness was not typical of the town; even in Pyrite, even in the reaches away from the clubs and nightlife areas, there should have been _some_ streetlights on, or neon signs. But then, she figured, it wouldn’t have been difficult for a man like him to buy off part of the power company to create his own personal blackout.

 

“What do you want with me,” Rui asked after several minutes of silent walking.

 

He laughed, the sound high and pleasant. “Aw, girlie, just a talk—for now.” He meandered over to a street bench and sat down, patting the space next to him. Rui folded her arms and stayed standing.

 

“Suit youself,” he said amicably. “Now girl, I hear you stole youself a ticket to my tourney. What digs?”

 

“I want to participate.”

 

“Gahaha! I suppose you do.” He folded one leg over the other. “You know, I repeat what I say: you got you some spunk. You tryna fight back even now, even after all that, and that’s something I dig.” He nodded. “So I’mma make you an offer. Sign up with me.”

 

Rui’s eyes flickered from side to side. Was there someone out there in the darkness? All the lights were _gone,_ so it was almost impossible to be sure. Even Miror B himself was barely more than a shadow.

 

“You already made me that offer.”

 

The shadow shook its head, the poke ball afro swinging from side to side. “Naw, girl. Before, they was the ones what wanted you to join. I ain’t talking about them now. Sign up with _me._ ”

 

Silence held through the darkened streets. “What?” she finally asked.

 

Miror B stood. “I been thinking,” he said. “I be doing most of the hard work, and what do I get but mean words and more orders. Naw. Total bogus.”

 

Despite that fact that he held her dead to rights, Rui couldn’t stop herself from shaking with anger. “Why would I join you?” she said, trembling. “You employ people like—like those pricks who kidnapped me!”

 

“You want ‘em? You can have ‘em,” he said instantly.

 

“I—wha?”

 

A low chuckle came from the afro-headed shadow. “Aw, stella, what do I care ‘bout them? They nobodies. They treat you bad, you can do whatever you want with ‘em. Make ‘em suffer. Give ‘em to your pokemon. Put ‘em in cement!”

 

Involuntarily backing away, Rui stared at him. “That’s—you’re—”

 

“You think you wouldn’t like it?” he said in a quiet voice. “Naw, cool cat. It helps. It feels _good._ My brother did bad shit to me all my life, and when he left to work in Gateon, I almost wanted to sing. Then one day he comes back, and he spends all night… tormenting me. My friends and me, we decide enough is enough, and we stuff him in a sack and drop the squirming thing down an old mine shaft.” He came close enough that she could see his eyes glittering behind his shades. “Felt _good,_ Rui Matsuhara. Empowering. And me and my friends, well, with a body under our belt, extortion and theft just be child’s play.”

 

He lifted his shades from his eyes and stared up at the stars. With the lights gone, more of them could be seen than usual. “But why aim low?” he whispered. “The chief shadow pokemon maker, he got him a sidekick—pink-haired girl. Real smart. She be like you and me, always underestimated. She got this idea to make shadow pokemon even stronger than other shadows, and what can’t revert back to normal even a little bit. Fix ‘em so bad they color changes and even normal peeps can see ‘em for what they is.” He looked at her, setting his shades back. “Your powers could help me and her make ‘em. And we’d destroy my bosses from the inside out.”

 

Rui thought about the shadow pokemon back home—and about Cap, and Luna, and Pompom; all the innocent pokemon that Miror B and his ilk saw as nothing more than potential weapons. “I hate shadow pokemon,” she growled. “Why would I _ever—”_

 

“This again?” he said, raising his voice. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed truly exasperated. “Damn, stella, you sure do like to pretend they creatures like _us,_ don’t you?”

 

“They are like us!” she shouted back. “They’re smart, they have—have hopes and feelings and pains! I can _talk_ to them!” Her voice echoed over the eerily empty streets. She was probably intelligible blocks away.

 

“ _Animals_ ain’t _people,_ ” he said, stepping so close she could hear the breeze rustle the frayed ends on his scarf. “Sure, we appreciate ‘em—hell, I got a soft spot for my Ludicolo! But special property, favored property, still just property. And if hurting your property helps you step up in the world…”

 

Rui’s fists were balled at her sides. “I will not,” she replied fiercely. “ _Ever._ ”

 

Miror B breathed in through his nose, and then out again. He pulled off his shades and stared down at her. In the darkness, the whites of his eyes were like the petals of a pale rose.

 

“No,” he said softly. “You won’t.” He put the glasses back on, his composure returned. “Shame, stella. Real shame.” He stepped back a pace, and then another, and then another. “Don’t know what plans you got for the tourney, but it can’t be good for me. Could have the gunman shoot you right here, but… naw. Seems more fitting this way, given how much you idolize them creatures.”

 

A flash of light as he released one of his Ludicolo. “Break her legs,” Miror B ordered, “and then kill her.”

 

The Ludicolo nodded and advanced on her.

 

She backed away. Oh Arceus. No. This was it.

 

“Please,” she pleaded to the pokemon. “I can help you. I can. You don’t have to do this.”

 

The Ludicolo was not a shadow pokemon—merely a loyal enforcer. He got closer, water balling around his fists, almost ephemeral in the night.

 

“You can talk with ‘em, right stella?” Miror B’s voice crawled from behind it. “Then make it stop if you care about ‘em so much.”

 

“Please,” she begged, the Ludicolo raising a fist to shoot the water at her knee. She flashed back to the pokemon at Duking’s. She should have taken up Denri on his offer. How stupid of her, to hold what happened in the storm against him. He was better than his worst day. He cared about her. All of them did. She’d spurned their help so arrogantly…!

 

With a grunt the Ludicolo blasted water at her, and Vulcana burst from a nearby alley like a star, ringing herself so suddenly in fire that the light almost seared Rui’s eyes. The fire met the water and evaporated it into a plume of steam which made both the Ludicolo and his trainer stagger back.

 

“V-Vulcana?” Rui said, staring down at the Quilava. “I thought you…”

 

At a command from Miror B, the Ludicolo shot another jet of water at Vulcana. She warded it off.

 

“Leave!” Vulcana barked.

 

“But—”

 

“I’ll follow, but you need to leave now! Go down the alleyway!”

 

Spinning, Rui bolted down it, Vulcana hot on her heels. The Fire-type spread flames after her; not enough to lick the buildings alight, but enough so that Miror B was slowed. He’d released two more Ludicolo, now, and the three of them were hosing down the flames.

 

“I couldn’t leave,” Vulcana panted as they ran. “I wanted to, but… I knew you would get into trouble…”

 

Well. That was one way of putting it. “Thank you,” Rui replied back.

 

The alley emerged into a small lot separated from the street by a chain-link fence. The top was barbed wire and unclimbable, so Vulcana set about melting a hole. By the time a good-sized passage had been made, Miror B had caught up.

 

“I’ve got you,” Vulanca said, crossing to shield Rui from the Ludicolo. “Because… you’re my trainer. Right?”

 

Rui smiled at her. “Yeah.” She retreated until her back was to the fence. “I am, Vulcana.”

 

A heavy and relieved smile crossed the Quilava’s features, and was soon followed by the same towering self-confidence she usually wore. “This joker can’t handle me, Water-types or no. I’m the strongest there is.”

 

“You’re our ace, Vulcana,” Rui said. “Welcome back.”

 

Miror B was scowling at the creature before him, her lithe body aflame. “I heard that thing ran off,” he said.

 

Rui couldn’t help but smirk. “Wasn’t permanent. Give it up, Miror B. Even with your Ludicolo, you know Vulcana’s reputation. She’s more powerful than my whole team combined. There’s no way you could beat her in a pokemon battle.”

 

“Know what?” he said. “You absolutely right.” He pulled out a flip-lighter, ignited it, raised it over his head, and pointed at Vulcana with his other hand.

 

Rui frowned. What was—

 

The gunshot smashed through the quiet air like a runaway train, and almost immediately after, Vulcana’s body sagged to the side as her eyes widened and she gasped aloud. Crimson splashed over the dirt. Vulcana’s legs quivered and she collapsed, groaning. “Master,” she said, her voice no longer the proud timbre it was but low and pained and straining. “Mas… ter… please…” Her eyes were glossy and beginning to unfocus.

 

Miror B’s face, lit a dull orange by the burning embers on Vulcana’s back, looked like a gargoyle. His Ludicolo slowly fanned out. There was a sound above—Rui looked up to see a gunman silhouetted against the stars atop a nearby roof, rechambering his rifle. Suddenly, with a wheeze, Vulcana shakily stood, her eyes refoucising. With a cry that was not so much ferocious as it was ragged, Vulcana sent a plume of fire that knocked the gunman back, swatting at himself and screeching as his clothes caught alight.

 

“She’s wounded, kill her!” Miror B snarled. The Ludicolo lunged at Vulcana as one.

 

Another terrible burst of flame sent them back, and behind the display Vulcana panted heavily. “Th-the fence. Go through,” she rasped. “Please, Rui!”

 

“B-but you’re hurt!”

 

Swaying on her feet, dripping blood from the gunshot wound, Vulcana snarled at her three opponents. “You think something… as minor as… _this_ will stop me? Never…” She coughed, the sound pained. “ _Never!_ ”

And as Vulcana summoned more fire, Rui turned and wormed through the hole, ignoring how the jagged edges of the chain link fence gnawed at her duster and poked her skin. Finally through, she bolted for Duking’s. She only looked back once, but the battle raged too fiercely for her to see what was happening—there was only a great inferno punctuated by enormous blasts of steam.

 

Her lungs burned and her legs quivered as she got to Duking’s, but she managed to beg him to send the police to save Vulcana. With the others surrounding her, she waited desperately for them to bring back her Quilava.

 

Finally, the police called Duking, who nodded and nodded but said nothing. Holding Cap in her lap, the other pokemon all close around her, Rui waited for his words.

 

The lot and nearby fence were scorched almost beyond recognition. There was no sign of Miror B. No sign of his Ludicolo.

 

And no sign of Vulcana.

 

“That means she lived,” Rui said, firmly, quickly, ignoring the pained and pitying look in Duking’s eyes. “There would have been a—a corpse. She escaped and she’s coming here. It’ll take her a while cause she was hurt but, but she’ll come! She has to!”

 

“Rui…”

 

“She’ll come,” she repeated resolutely. “We’re not _that_ far. She’ll be here by dawn.” She stood, Cap hopping off her lap. “I’ll wait for her. We all will. She’ll come.” They all gathered around her, Tama and Reed and Argyle and Denri and Striga and Luna and Cap. Past grievances were forgotten. She’d apologized for mistrusting them; in the face of this new crisis, none of them could afford to focus on the past.

 

This wasn’t going to be like Wes, Rui thought. Not like Pompom. Not like her mom. Vulcana was _coming._ She wasn’t lost. She’d make it. She had to make it!

 

And she and the pokemon made their way to Duking’s front step to wait Vulcana and the coming dawn.

 

But only they only saw the latter.


	18. Chapter 17

It was a hard time to be a superhero.

 

Part of being a hero was to be there for everyone. You had to be strong when others weren’t. But the past few days, Cap (awesome though he was) still found it difficult to smile.

 

He hadn’t known Vulcana that well. Unlike Tama and Denri, she hadn’t accepted any overtures of friendship from the coolest pokemon around; and her relationship with Luna was, if anything, even worse. Heck, when she’d ran away, Cap had been certain they’d never see her again.

 

Well, he wasn’t wrong. They _wouldn’t_ ever see her again. Only Rui had, and even then, there had been nothing to find.

 

Trotting through the dirt outside of the mayor’s residence, he kicked at a small pebble with his forepaw. It wasn’t fair! They’d all been working so hard, and had been trying to save the shadow pokemon, and then one of their own…

 

Angrily, he kicked the pebble harder, then, dissatisfied with how far it flew, he picked it up with his awesomeness and slammed it against the wall.

 

Ugh. This whole thing was stupid!

 

Rounding the corner, he almost stumbled into Argyle. _Almost_. Superheroes didn’t make mistakes, and Cap was naturally no exception.

 

The Noctowl was looking down, so Cap put on his brave mask for him. “What are you up to?” he asked.

 

Argyle sighed. “Oh, you know. Just… thinking.”

 

“You feeling mopey?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Any more protestations were cut off when Cap lightly cuffed him.

 

“Wh—hey! What’s going on?”

 

Cap sprang back, wiggling his rump like he was about to pounce. “My Uncle Orange always taught me that if you and a friend ever felt upset, a little play-fight could lift your spirits!” Reflecting on his uncle, Cap beamed with inner warmth. He had always been there for them when they were young, and no matter what Luna said, they wouldn’t have gotten by without him.

 

Argyle shook his head ruefully. “C’mon, I saw you fight Denri _._ I don’t stand a chance against you.”

 

“Cool!” Cap said, launching a bolt of concentrated coolness at him. Argyle squawked and just managed to zip out of the way.

 

“What are you doing!”

 

Cap grinned. “Just figured I’d get a free win under my belt!”

 

That seemed to sting the bird. Argyle flapped into the air, looking huffy. “It—it won’t be _free!_ ”

 

His grin widening, Cap thrashed his tail from side to side, the two tips flicking through the air. “Prove it, then!”

 

He launched more awesomeness at Argyle, but the bird countered with an array of psychic power. (Cap thought about calling it _cool_ power _,_ but decided that anything that didn’t come from him was suspect.) The twin energies played against each other, and amidst the flash, Argyle swept in, his talons low. Cap barely managed to skip back and cuff the bird again before sending him rolling with a punchy shot of badassitude.

 

Awkwardly waving a wing, Argyle squawked, “I yield, I yield!” Cap trotted over as he got up. “Yeah, yeah,” Argyle continued good-naturedly, “you’re still pretty tough, Cap.” His brow narrowed. “But you know… a Noctowl who knew what they were doing could be a real problem for you. Or a Xatu or Murkrow, or—well, any bird who isn’t afraid of psychic power.”

 

“Yeah?” Cap said with a degree of healthy skepticism.

 

“Yeah,” Argyle said. “Between your agility and powers, you’re more than a match for almost any ground-based adversary, but flying enemies are more agile and better able to dodge your powers. And if they had powers of their own… I mostly use mine for defense, but if one managed to return fire and swoop in while you were reeling…” He held out his talons, wicked and curved. “Bam. Right in the throat. Espeon aren’t known for their fortitude, Cap.”

 

Sure, sure. It was nice of Argyle to offer help, but it would take a real A-lister of a villain to challenge _this_ hero.

 

…and yet…

 

Hadn’t Vulcana always seemed so invincible? But it had been an unseen attack from above that had left her vulnerable.

 

“Tell you what,” Cap said after a quiet moment’s introspection. “Every good hero needs a sidekick. If Vulcana hadn’t—”

 

He swallowed, suddenly unable to talk. Huh? What was happening? He tried swallowing again but his throat was too tight.

 

“I-if she hadn’t… been there alone…” he said, wiping his eyes with his front paw, “then maybe… she…”

 

“…yeah,” Argyle said. He draped a comforting wing around Cap, who wanted to curse—wasn’t _he_ the hero who was supposed to be comforting _Argyle?_

 

“…t-thanks,” he said, and hiccupped. “Y-you’re a good sidekick, Argyle.”

 

He couldn’t see Argyle smiling, but could imagine it. “Glad to be. Now come on, captain. Let’s head inside.”

 

And the two pokemon wandered in.

 

\---

 

Even to a ghost, death was an enigma.

 

Striga drifted ambiently through the estate, keeping to themselves. Oh, they liked the others, and enjoyed spending time with them—within reason. Truth be told, the more outgoing members like Cap and Denri, and even the more introspective ones like Tama and Reed, could be tiring.

 

But then, they were simply of a different age than Striga.

 

Flashes of their old life hit them like bursts of magic, at first hazy and indistinct before suddenly blossoming into crystal-clear images of dances under the sun, flutenotes wafting on the wind, and the dry, desolate beauty of the Orresian desert—though of course during their life as a human, there had been no nation of “Orre”, only a land where people lived and loved.

 

Even in those far-off days, they had not known, truly, what lay beyond the veil. Oh, the shamans made pronouncements and claimed to read things in the stars, but even while training to be holy, the person-who-would-become-Striga had harbored private reservations; uncertainties that any mortal could ever probe the world beyond. And even after their death at the hands of Aueriteks and their wardogs and spears, and their reincorporation into a small and quiet spirit that drifted the sands for centuries at a time, watching the world change around them, the question remained unanswerable.

 

And yet, Vulcana…

 

“I hope you find peace,” Striga murmured, “wherever you might be.” They considered offering a snippet of prayer they remembered from their days, but rejected it. Vulcana would never have understood that far-off, dead language which had morphed into modern Orresian. It was best to honor her as she would have understood.

 

“May your soul finally rest. May it dance in the gentle dark behind the stars. May it dance forever.”

 

The emotion gripped their heart, and they felt the stirring of something ugly within them—the shadows were rising.

 

They shook themselves, trying desperately to avoid having the negativity overtake them. It was becoming rarer and rarer, the more time they spent around Rui and the other pokemon, but no matter how it dimmed, it seemed impossible to extinguish. Would they be shadow forever? Could it never be undone?

 

The small droplet of despair threatened to become a flood, so they rose—up and up, through ceilings and floors. They didn’t enjoy becoming totally insubstantial (it left a prickling sensation which only intensified when they passed through solid objects) but before long they broke above Duking’s roof into the vermillion desert sun. Giving themselves a corporeal form again, Striga bathed in the light, letting the happiness slowly melt away the bad feelings.

 

It had been like this when the person they’d once been had died. They remembered seeing the sun. Despite the pain the Aueriteks had given then, they had smiled at the warmth. Afterwards, as they were metamorphosing into a Ghost-type, their spirit had observed deific beasts from the east come to scourge the Aueriteks. How magnificent they had been.

 

At her best, Vulcana had reminded Striga of those creatures. “Be well, wherever you might be,” Striga whispered. And then, because it seemed right, they broke their own rule and spoke a fragment of that ancient prayer. “ _Utinam felicitatem adprehendet vos. Saltat tuus spiritus._ ”

 

And they hung there, feeling the idle tug of their poke ball, and wondered if Vulcana also felt the sun.

 

\---

 

Tama felt sad.

 

He _felt._

 

The sensation of it all was… both novel and yet familiar, like meeting, suddenly, a friend from your childhood.

 

He had felt before, of course. Back before being Snagged and given to the wicked men and sent to the pale place with its badness, he remembered moments of laughter, of intense joy; he remembered crying when taken from his trainer, a mix of fear and sorrow.

 

Yet all that seemed as it had happened to another. For so long, he had operated with only two feelings: a lifeless, mute cogence, and pure, unbridled, lava-hot anger.

 

But slowly, slowly, with the help of Cap and Rui and all those others, he was _feeling_ again.

 

On top of the loss of a teammate, that alone made him want to weep.

 

 _So why don’t you?_ a little part of him asked.

 

 _Can I?_ he replied, a mix of childlike apprehension and awe.

 

There was no answer. He would have to find out for himself.

 

He thought of Vulcana again. How she had, frankly, kicked his ass the first time they had met. How she had been so aloof. So prickly and proud. Of all the shadow pokemon, Vulcana had been the only one who hadn’t seemed to _want_ to return to how she had been. Was she too in love with the power that being a shadow gave her? Did she not care? Or was it that unlike the rest of them, it had manifested differently?

 

How _old_ she had seemed, sometimes. It was hard to tell, because she was in her middle form, but she seemed to carry such weight to her experiences.

 

She’d been stuck, as Tama himself was. He was certain. Denri and Argyle and Reed had been fortunate enough to have been made shadows on their evolution, but Tama hadn’t evolved—and now he couldn’t. He could feel the energy, twisting like a knot. He was _supposed_ to evolve, to become a Hariyama. He was strong enough. But so long as he was a shadow pokemon it would not happen. His greatest hope was that someday the last of the shadows would fade, and he could finally evolve. He deserved to be a Hariyama, just as poor Vulcana deserved to be a strong and beautiful Typhlosion—

 

Ah. There it was.

 

He buried his face in his hands and sobbed and sobbed. He was sad, sad that his friend (for he _had_ considered her a friend in his way, even if she hadn’t reciprocated) had died. He was happy that he was no longer flat and dead; that he could feel emotions once again. He was ashamed that he felt happiness at this time, and apologetic towards Vulcana’s spirit.

 

The emotions were like a whirlwind, sweeping him who-knows-where, and all he could do was sit and cry.

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Denri looking down at him with concern. “Are you… okay?”

 

Tama nodded and went back to crying. “This is… Vulcana’s last gift,” he managed to get out.

 

Through the tears he saw Denri slowly nod. “I get it.” The Ampharos sat down, keeping a comforting arm around him. “You were… pretty bad for a while there.” Denri grimaced. “Not that I was any better back on that rooftop.”

 

Tama shook his head. “We all… have moments…”

 

Denri sighed. It was true, of course, but he’d still taken it hard. Tama knew he’d forgive himself sooner or later, though.

 

After Tama’s tears were shed, he rubbed at his eyes. “You gonna be okay?” Denri asked.

 

“Yeah. I hope…” Tama sniffed. “Hope I can stay this way. Feel like me again. Not… go flat.”

 

Denri’s tail burned a pleasing soft red. “Hey. You’re among friends.”

 

Tama hiccupped and smiled.

 

\---

 

The rapid, insistent knock on Rui’s door could only have been Duking. She wanted to scowl and turn away, or get up and walk out, or—or—

 

Or—

 

But no. All that would have taken far too much energy. So she did as she always did and lay there on her small bed, doing nothing.

 

The raps became firmer and even more insistent. There was a pause and the door opened—just a crack.

 

“Rui?” came Duking’s strong voice from outside. “Are you there?”

 

She ignored him.

 

He gave her a few seconds to respond. “I’m coming in, Rui.” He waited a few more seconds—enough time for her to protest, should she want it—and then the door creaked open.

 

Though it was the height of the afternoon, her room was dark, the curtains drawn heavily over the window. With a _tsk_ ing noise, the mayor strode over and threw them aside, letting the fierce sunlight spear though the room. She groaned and shielded her eyes against the light.

 

“Go away, Duking.”  
  
“We need to talk, Rui.” He pulled over a chair and set it a few paces away from her bed. The chair wasn’t small, but it _looked_ small under his large, bodybuilder’s physique. “The tournament is the day after tomorrow.”

 

“Meh.”

 

“We need you to participate.”  
  
“Pfeh.”

 

His mouth thinned. “Dammit, Rui, I’m as sorry as anyone about your Quilava, but letting Miror B do what he wants to the citizens of this town won’t bring her back!”

 

“Go,” she whispered, “away.”

 

How could he understand? It wasn’t just Vulcana. Vulcana was only the latest—there was Wes before her, and then Pompom, and then her mother, and her father before that, a parade of loss stretching across time and crossing the continents to follow wherever she went.

 

And besides, none of the others—not even Wes—had given their lives to save her.

 

She pushed herself up on her elbows to stare at Duking. It wasn’t just her, either. The pokemon were also in low spirits. Just this morning, she had passed Luna and Reed quietly mourning together, standing close, very close, though not touching. (Reed had issues with that, it seemed.) Neither the Umbreon and the Quagsire had noticed her, so encompassed were they with grief.

 

“Forget about the tournament,” Rui said, her voice monotone. “For Mew’s sake, Duking, give me time to mourn. I won’t be like this forever. There will be other times we can take the fight to Miror B.”

 

“And I’m sure the pokemon suffering under him during those extra few days or weeks will appreciate that their misery wasn’t worth fighting for.”

 

She shot out of her bed, gritting her teeth. “Don’t,” she snarled. “ _Don’t._ ”

 

Duking exhaled gruffly. “Anger, eh? Good. At least it’s not just moroseness.”

 

“You think I haven’t _felt_ anger these past few days? One of my pokemon was murdered!”

 

“Then take that anger!” Duking said, his voice firm. “It’s good nourishment. And besides, here’s another reason why it has to be soon… one I think you’ll enjoy. You _hurt_ him.”

 

She blinked. “What do you mean,” she said.

 

“He’s been hiding it well, but Sherles’s men have found out—Miror B? The night he called you out, he went in for treatment at a burn ward. His pokemon had it even worse.” He folded his arms. “Three Ludicolo—not officially registered to any trainer—were rushed to emergency treatment at a pokemon hospital. All had sustained severe Fire-type damage, and one didn’t make it.

 

“Rui… he brought down Vulcana, but she made him _pay_ for it. Why do you think he hasn’t made a move against you? He’s too busy recovering. This is her parting gift to you. His body is weak, his team decimated—he’s never been more vulnerable than he is right now.”

 

As much as she wanted to sink back into her gloom, the wheels in her head started to turn. “To cancel the tournament would be a sign of weakness,” Rui said, realization dawning. “He tried to assassinate me personally and not only failed, he was almost killed. No matter how he tries to keep it under wraps, word will have gotten out in the underworld.” She paced back and forth across her room, the cogs of her mind spinning away. “If I show up to the tournament, _win_ it, and call him out in front of everyone…”

 

“He’s done,” Duking said. “Forget about humiliating him or weakening him. With his team still shattered from Vulcana’s last stand, if you call him out, he can’t stop you short having his goons dogpile your team. But he’s already established ‘honor amongst thieves’ type rules about the tournament: no acting against a competitor, no stealing from anyone part of the tournament, et cetera.”

 

“If he sends his men after me,” Rui said, “he’d be breaking his own rules—showing he can’t be trusted _and_ branding himself a coward. Any halfway ambitious underling would stage a coup to take advantage of his weakness—”

 

“—and in the chaotic infighting, Sherles and the police force finally make inroads and bring the gang down for good,” Duking finished. “Either way, Miror B’s done. He’s _done._ This is our _chance,_ Rui.”

 

She hugged herself. “That’s assuming I can win.”

 

Duking chuckled. “My girl… your team is one of the most fantastic I’ve ever seen, shadows or no.”

 

“And what if his men _are_ ordered to dogpile me?”

 

He thumbed his nose. “We’ll have one of Sherles’s men planted in the stands with a Psychic-type. You’ll be teleported out of there before anything happens. We’re also giving you a bulletproof vest—just in case.”

 

She nodded. Good safeguards, though there was still risk.

 

But what was life without risk?

 

“I’ll…” she began, and sighed. Arceus above, but the loss still gnawed at her.

 

But this was the final bit of help Vulcana had to offer her. And Miror B… the man who dealt in shadows… who employed creeps like Trudly and Folly, who held Pyrite in a chokehold, who had tried to murder her…

 

His final hour was at hand.

 

“I’ll do it.”


	19. Extra #2: The Legend of Captain Justice

Once, far away in the Orre region, there was a smart, handsome, keen-eyed, and very talented hero. His presence made all the cute guys swoon, and every pokemon wish they were the Psychic-type. This is the mon. The legend. This is the story of how he saved the world. He is… **_  
_******_  
_

# **_CAPTAIN JUSTICE!_ **

_(We’re in for a treat, aren’t we?)_

_(Oh, just wait. You didn’t grow up hearing about all this.)_

_  
_ How did he save the world, you might ask? From whom? Only from the most dastardly of crafty creatures. You see, Captain Justice is no mere mon. He is, after all, a bonafide superhero. And yet, during these hours, even he was put to the test. For there was a power even he struggled to overcome. No, it was no mere mugger. No hordes of vicious pokemon. In fact, it wasn’t even the near-insurmountable obstacle of a bratty older sister. It was… space aliens.

 

_(Did someone break into the fermented Grepa juice?)_

_(Don’t listen to ‘em, Cap! Tell me the story!)_

 

Thank you my good sir! It’s good to know that a hero can always count on his stalwart fans. Yes! It’s true! If not for Captain Justice, every pokemon in all of Orre would be enslaved to extraterrestrials, doing their diabolic bidding! The story of how Captain Justice overcame them is truly one of the great tales of our time.

 

_(What did I walk into? I came here to train…)_

_(Just sit down and listen. Trust me on this.)_

 

It all started one day beneath the audaciously auspicious aqueducts of Phenac City. A more perfect place for a hero has never been found! A veritable jewel of a town! Has there ever been such a city? Truly, this sapphire in a sea of iniquity was the perfect birthplace of a hero.

 

Of course, this was in Captain Justice’s early days. He was still a fighter for justice—and still very definitely one-hundred-percent a captain—but can you imagine that at one point in his life, there was a time when he _couldn’t_ lift things with his mind and shoot laser beams whenever he wanted? He was, then, little more than a ball of brown floof, though still the handsomest and eye-candiest brown floof in all of Orre.

 

The good captain was out on patrol, driving off hordes of sinister pokemon from stealing food that was rightfully his, and sending their criminal trainers packing with nothing but his steely and well-composed glare. After the young Espeon-to-be finished trouncing a Charizard, he wandered over to the fountain to rest, and that’s where he saw it.

 

The mothership was hovering right over town, and dropping its diabolic payload right onto the center of the city!

 

_(What’d they look like! Tell us tell us!)_

Of course! They looked like nothing less than the spawn of infinite space itself. They were squat with stubbly little arms and legs. They had black ears and a sinister curl of hair on their brow. A small, poofy tail. And worst of all! They had co-opted the shade of justice, the color of the brave. They had taken pink and _turned it evil!_

 

As the best pokemon around, Captain Justice naturally couldn’t let these five-pointed diaboliques go around sullying pink’s good name by doing stuff like toddling around, wagging their fingers, staring up at the moon they had come from, and worse—eating all the food that had been left by the fountain!

 

You see, that food was already claimed for **JUSTICE.** The good captain had a sidekick. We won’t say too much about her, but let’s just say she was like a sister to him. Her name… no, no, we can’t give away all the secrets. Let’s make up a fake name for her. She was called… Lunette. Poor Lunette tried hard, but she was completely defenseless and not good at anything other than scolding and being a stick-in-the-mud. If Captain Justice’s powers were general awesomeness, then she possessed the one-of-a-kind ability to singlehandedly make anything boring just by showing up.

 

_(The look on her face…)_

_(You think she’s contemplating murder, or just battery?)_

 

Now, poor Lunette could never get anything for herself, even though her brave and stalwart Uncle Orange (the hero who taught Captain Justice everything he knew) had done his best to educate her in the ways of the world. She was always hungry, and it was on the good Captain to provide for her!

 

_(And who was it that watched over you, Cap, when you dozed off at night after the oh-so-tiring chore of dragging a half-eaten berry from the next alley over?)_

 

No one! A hero is never tired! Anywho, the aliens were, in their own dastardly way, stealing all the food from the fountain plaza! Captain Justice knew that if they took it back to their mothership, their dreaded Food Beam would reach maximum power and devastate all of Orre. It was up to him to save the day.

 

It was time for the big action sequence! Pow! Bam! Captain Justice sprinted out, and when he showed himself, half of the aliens fainted dead away from shock, just because they knew they had no chance against such a strong and handsome hero.

 

“Captain Justice!” they said. “He’s too powerful and handsome! What can we do?” But the head alien rallied the troops and they threw themselves at him. The thunder of their battle shook the fabric of time and space! The good captain nimbly dodged their death rays and twinkly starry stuff—

 

 _(I think those were Swift attacks, Cap._ )

 

Hush, Lunette, you weren’t there. Anyway, he narrowly avoided the peril of their mighty attacks and then counterattacked with his own powers! The awesomeness filled the gem on his forehead and he shot it out in a concentrated beam that scattered them. Catching the stragglers in his awesomeness, he juggled them high in the air, one after another. A great, fabulous wave of energy swept over all the alien troops, knocking them down like dishes in a sink when you try to climb on them to get the treat in the top cupboard. You know?

 

_(Wait, hold on. I thought this story took place when he was an Eevee?)_

_(If you’re applying logic or consistency to my brother, you’re clearly barking up the wrong tree.)_

 

The aliens were in retreat, but amidst their throngs, Captain Justice saw they had a captive Teddiursa! He was young, a little scraggly-looking, and so cute you guys, I can’t even. The good captain couldn’t just let them get away with such a striking pokemon, so he barreled in to save him. He finally made it to the Teddiursa, only to be met with a vicious claw swipe. The fiend! He had turned traitor and was aiding the aliens against his own people. It’s always the cute ones! Suddenly, a whirr filled the air. The aliens were charging up the Food Beam!

 

_(Hold on, what even is the Food Beam? Does it turn things into food? Wouldn’t that be a good thing if you’re hungry?)_

_(Shhh, I want to hear the end of the story!)_

_(Yeah, let the guy finish his fight scene.)_

The incomplete beam couldn’t devastate the Orre region, but it could still spell doom for our captain! Recognizing just how close it would be, Captain Justice prepared himself. As they shot the beam, he nimbly dodged underneath it, sliding beneath the energy waves. The resulting shockwave knocked all the remaining aliens off balance and even sent the Teddiursa reeling back. Captain Justice had defeated them with their own powers!

 

But still dusted up from the explosion, he knew it had been a close fight. Retrieving the food for his poor helpless sidekick Lunette, he walked home, silently accepting the knowledge that all Orre would never know that they only narrowly avoided the fate of alien enslavement… and all thanks to the unsung heroism of the legendary Captain Justice.

 

_(Yeeeaaahhh! Woooo!)_

_(Argyle’s really into this, huh?)_

_(I saw you paying attention, Striga, don’t pretend.)_

_(So yes, everyone: that’s the story of how my brother was beaten up by two Cleffa and a Teddiursa when trying to take half a burger from a trashcan, and only escaped when they started fighting amongst themselves over the burger. I hope you enjoyed.)_

Slander! Lies and slander! You’re working with the aliens! But its okay, I forgive you. Sidekicks are always jealous of the _real_ stars.

 

_(Uhhh… clear the room, everyone. From the look on Luna’s face, I think we’re about to have a clash of heroes.)_


	20. Chapter 18

Of course, no matter how we torment them, miserable pokemon are nothing more than miserable pokemon. To make them into shadows, we need to go a little bit further.

 

And thus, the White Room.

 

Deep in the Aueritek ruins beneath our laboratory, there is a chamber which has remained remarkably intact despite the dilapidated state of the rest of the complex. It is a small room, lined with pale white stone. Intricate carvings snake across the wall. No electronic equipment placed in there lasts more than a few seconds before irreparably breaking; any sufficiently miserable pokemon left in there for a few days emerge as Shadow Pokemon, while other pokemon (and humans) simply die.

 

Despite being the cornerstone to our plan, we know so very little about it.

 

It seems to have been a place of worship. What the Aueriteks might have worshipped is unknown, given that none of the carvings match any known extant artifacts.

 

Having only visited myself once or twice—and only for a few minutes—I can say that the place feels like nothing less than dread itself. Have you ever watched a well-made horror movie, and you know that something is going to go wrong, but it hasn’t happened yet? That feeling of all-encompassing dread… such a feeling exudes from that place, seeping from it like water through a sieve.

 

I am aware that others within the High Council are frustrated that I have made precious little progress regarding the White Room. Surely if we understood it better, they say, Shadow Pokemon production could increase even more.

 

Anyone who thinks they could speed our understanding is welcome to visit the chamber any time.

 

—Shadow Pokemon Lab

Chief Ein

 

\---

 

The sunlight glinted through small cracks of the metal-plated dome, casting slivers of light across the dusty battlefield. The roar of the crowd was omnipresent, as raucous as ever, but newly edged and somewhat oppressive. The announcer’s voice boomed over the stadium. The smell of sweat and dirt lingered.

 

The battles at the colosseum were underway.

 

Argyle circled above the battle-field, flinty-eyed. This was Rui’s third match, and the first to give her any true difficulty. Their enemy, an imposing-looking Nidorino, pawed the ground, looking up. The Poison-type couldn’t reach Argyle—yet—but Argyle couldn’t strike back without getting into close range, either. It was a stalemate.

 

_If only my powers could be used offensively,_ he thought, cursing. The momentary annoyance seemed to wake something inside of his heart. The beast within stirred, telling him to fight, hunt, seek, _devour_ —but no. Argyle beat it down, as always, and its sullen anger burned deep in his breast like a second heartbeat.

 

He shuddered. _Focus._

 

Rui’s voice was a high command. “Now, Argyle!” At her impetus, he swooped low, angling towards the Nidorino. The Poison-type braced and then charged.

 

“Like we practiced!”

 

With the briefest of nods, he acknowledged her command, his forehead plumage shimmering as he drew on his psychic powers. He could only use them defensively, and the Nidorino, anticipating a barrier, skeeted to a halt.

 

_Just as planned._

 

He let the psychic power die, the fakeout he and Rui had practiced together doing its job—leaving his opponent vulnerable, not anticipating a full-out assault. He barreled into the Nidorino savagely, tumbling over him, scrabbling with talons and beak and cuffing with his wings—

 

The enemy disappeared in a haze of light. The enemy trainer had recalled his pokemon. “I yield!” he said, and then he nodded his head in a small acknowledgement of Rui. After a moment, she returned it.

 

Circling around to her, Argyle perched on her shoulder as they had agreed. Rather than go in his ball, he was to be her second line of defense (after Duking’s gift of a bulletproof vest), ready at a moment’s notice to shield her.

 

“What do you think?” Rui murmured to him as her opponent wandered off. “About that nod?”

 

“I think,” he replied, “that Miror B had better watch out.” Since the tournament began this morning, there had been an almost electric sensation in the air. Everyone there knew that the question was whether Rui could overcome him or not, and a lot of the criminals who had shown up to throw their lot in with Orre’s biggest crime boss were instead sitting on the sidelines, holding their breath while waiting to see who reigned supreme: Miror B or Rui Matsuhara. If they’d read their opponent’s gesture correctly, then he was implicitly backing her.

 

And he wasn’t the first.

 

As the announcer introduced Rui’s next opponent, Argyle let his eyes drift up to the announcer’s box. Sitting alongside the energetic young man commentating over every match was Miror B himself.

 

He wasn’t wearing the same outfit Argyle had seen when he’d knocked on Duking’s door. Instead of the daring purple ensemble, today the boss of Pyrite’s crime wore a glamorous yellow disco suit with catseye shades.

 

They did little to hide the still-healing burns crawling like ivy up his neck and face. The wounds seethed raw and red beneath the generous gauze. Though none of the assorted riffraff had spoken, many eyes had gazed at those injuries and then turned to the orange-haired girl who had inflicted them and lived to walk away. On his part, Miror B’s line of sight had barely wavered, delivering a gaze that could have clouded the sun directly down to Rui.

 

Their current opponent, a Drowzee, was no match for Luna, and Rui soon swapped her out in favor of Reed to face down an enemy Magnemite. Though she kept a brave, even face, Argyle could feel the tension in her shoulders. The rules of the tournament were clear—there should have been nothing but fair play. But none of them expected Miror B to play nice. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ he would make a move, but _when._

 

As they sat back to watch other tournament fighters duke it out, Argyle recollected on their arrival. When they’d first showed up at the colosseum this morning, Argyle already perched on Rui’s shoulder and Luna striding confidently alongside her, the thugs and thieves and strongarms had parted for her with a mood that could have only been described as reverential awe. When Rui had wordlessly offered Cail’s invite, the woman at the desk had taken it, paled, and then checked her in.

 

While she had done so, whispers had scurried among the others. “I heard she just _takes_ pokemon, but only shadows.” “She brought down thunder onto Cail. Almost killed him.” “Wonder if she’s gunning for Miror B’s spot. Y’know? Duking could just be her patsy…”

 

With Denri out front, they had won their first match in under twenty seconds. The crowd, instead of their usual thunderous cheers, had watched in stunned silence. Rui had swept her eyes over all the stands, daring anyone to speak up.

 

No one had.

 

Not all of their bouts were after each other, of course, which gave the team time to rest. Once Reed had mopped up the Magnemite, they spent a few hours watching other criminals thrash each other before it was time to return to the ring. Rui strode out there, her duster billowing behind her, as the next opponent filed in.

 

It was a woman in her late twenties with full, plum-colored lips and a long ponytail the color of autumn leaves. She wore what appeared to be a stylized set of combat armor, colored purple, with a curious fashion accessory: a loose scarf.

 

They’d seen her fight before. She was a formidable opponent. Despite having two pokemon, she’d only needed to use one—a Machoke—in the battles thus far.

 

The woman smirked and gave a mocking bow. Rui raised her eyebrow. The woman rose and moved her mouth. As she did so, a sound, like a whisper, came from right behind them: “ _Do you know the cipher?”_

 

Rui jumped, and Argyle squawked. “She’s… psychic!” he told her. “Like you!” Well, not _exactly_ like Rui, he mused, but still. Humans with powers were a rare lot.

 

_“It appears not._ ” The woman’s voice emerged again, and Rui fought to avoid looking deeply uncomfortable.

 

“Well then,” their opponent said with a grin, speaking normally for the crowd to hear. “Let’s begin.”

 

She released her Machoke, and Rui sent out Cap. The young Espeon pawed the ground, eager for a fight. “Awww yeah! I hope you’re ready, bad guy, cause I don’t pull my punches! By which I mean, energy beams. I don’t pull my energy beams. But they’re still gonna punch you. In your face!”

 

The Machoke grunted, and at the announcer’s mark, both pokemon prepared themselves.

 

When the fight began, Cap launched a blistering beam of energy directly at his opponent. The beam shot out and—

 

And suddenly, wreathed in silver-grey energy, the Machoke wasn’t across the battlefield, he was _right next to Cap,_ sinking his fist into the young Espeon’s side and hurling him at least a dozen feet.

 

“Cap!” Rui cried. “Are you okay!”

 

As the Espeon struggled up, Argyle wracked his brain. _How was the Machoke that fast?_ They could learn a move, Mach Punch, to take them that swiftly, but Cap should have been able to weather a Fighting-type move that prioritized speed over power. This was…

 

This was something entirely different. A Steel-type move. _Bullet Punch_. Didn’t that have to be specifically bred onto the Machop line?

 

As Rui tensed beneath him, Argyle realized that she’d come to the same realization he had. This opponent was a higher step than they were used to.

 

The Machoke lumbered up to Cap, wreathing his hand in pitch-black energy. A Dark-type move.

 

“Cap!” Rui cried.

 

The Espeon shook himself awake just fast enough to dodge the incoming attack. He then forewent psychic power entirely to leap onto the Machoke’s face, scrabbling with his claws. The Fighting-type grunted and hurled him to the ground, delivering a mighty kick to send Cap skipping over the dirt floor; but a sudden flash from Cap’s gem sent the dirt pluming into dust, obscuring everyone’s vision. From within the dust cloud, there were flashes of rainbow energy and loud, angry roars, and when it cleared, Cap—looking a little worn but triumphant—was spinning the Machoke lazily through the air, held by psychic power.

 

“You should chill out, buddy!” Cap said, teasing the snarling Machoke. “Go to an amusement park!” His face tightened in faux worry. “Oh, but I hear some rides there spin you around and make you really sick. Will you be able to handle that? Let’s see!” The Machoke’s lazy spin suddenly picked up, making him go faster and faster—and the creature’s anger quickly faded into a desperate queasiness.

 

“I think you can handle it!” Cap said confidently. “Now here’s your own rollercoaster ride!” He hurled the Machoke into the arena walls. “And a fireworks show!” He followed up with a pinpoint lance of psychic energy that left the Machoke knocked out.

 

Rui smiled, and her hand twitched like she wanted to wipe her brow. Argyle let out a low and comforting sound, which seemed to ease her tension. He was glad.

 

The armor-clad woman sent out her next pokemon: a Pupitar.

 

“Cap, let Reed spell you,” Rui said.

 

“Aw, c’mon!” he protested, wiggling his rump. “I’m just getting started!” And without waiting for the go-ahead, he launched more psychic power at his adversary.

 

The Pupitar weathered the onslaught angrily and responded by spraying sand over the battlefield. Cap skipped aside and hit it again. The Pupitar took the psychic blast like it was nothing and shot a spray of rock shards at him, roaring furiously.

 

Argyle frowned. Cap was _strong,_ and no pokemon should have been able to just shrug off two of his point-blank attacks. The only way was if…

 

He blinked. The Pupitar shrugged off an attack by Cap _again._ It was roaring even harder now. Tiny cracks began to show on the outside of the creature’s shell.

 

Oh no.

 

Was if it was a _Dark-type._

 

“Rui, call him back!” he squawked. “It’s—”

 

The Pupitar’s shell exploded, the light of evolution broke over the arena, and all hell broke loose.

 

When the light faded, there was a towering Tyranitar there, darkness misting from his maw as he loomed over Cap. The little Espeon stared up with wide, fearful eyes. The Tyranitar roared, summoning an indoor sandstorm from his very presence, and the stands erupted into chaos as the competing criminals roiled back to get as far away as possible. The announcer was stuttering, completely shocked, and next to him—Miror B smiled evenly, unperturbed. It was a flat, smug, _knowing_ smile.

 

He’d made his move.

 

Rui fumbled for Cap’s ball. “Cap, you need to—”

 

The other woman’s command cut her off. “ _Hyper Beam!_ ”

 

With a gargantuan roar, the towering Rock-type launched a plume of energy at the young Espeon. It just managed to avoid hitting him, but the shockwave knocked him across the battlefield. He staggered back, woozy, and collapsed.

 

The Tyranitar lunged, snarling, but Rui managed to recall Cap. Releasing Reed to take his place, she shot a gaze up at the box and shouted. _“_ My Espeon almost died! Killing pokemon is against the rules!”

 

Miror B effortlessly grabbed the announcer’s mike and pulled it close. “It be, it be,” he said smoothly, leaning his uninjured cheek in his palm. “But you opponent didn’t tell her critter to kill, so she done nothing wrong. I ain’t gonna kick a trainer out over no accident.” Rui’s nostrils flared. “Oh, and speaking of them rules: only one pokemon at a time. No ganging up.” He smiled. “Course, you _is_ allowed to forfeit.”

 

The challenge hung in the air. Rui swallowed. “I—I—”

 

“We can do it, Rui!” Argyle squawked, shaking her out of her reverie. “We knew the risks. This guy has to be put down!”

 

On the battlefield, Reed turned and nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll do whatever you say, trainer,” he said, and then his voice grew slightly—just slightly—more flinted. “I’m not afraid of this _thing._ ”

 

Steeling herself, Rui nodded. “I’m going to continue!”

 

Miror B’s smirk was soon overshadowed by the deafening roar of the crowd. Whether they were looking forward to the spectacle or were cheering for Rui herself was hard to say.

 

“Aight,” Miror B said, leaning back and wincing. “Fight resumes _now._ ”

 

With barely any warning, the Tyranitar shot forward, raising a massive foot to crush Reed underfoot. The Quagsire just managed to dodge. Summoning a small burst of water, he slammed it against the Tyranitar’s other leg. The beast screamed in pain, giving Reed enough time to spin and land a thudding tail-swipe against its hurt leg. The creature thundered to its back, and Reed began alternately pelting it with wave after wave, mixing in ground attacks for good measure.

 

“It’s powerful but not used to its new body,” Rui was muttering. “That’s how we can beat it. _Reed_! Don’t let him get up!”

 

“Understood,” the Quagsire said robotically. The sandstorm whipped at him but he shrugged it off thanks to his typing. The Tyranitar was enduring a lot of punishment—could Reed finish this on his own?

 

Argyle let his attention drift away from the fight and back to Miror B. The man was watching the battle play out in front of him with thin-lipped satisfaction. Was this his plan? To sneak a pokemon calibrated to bring down Rui’s ace (because after Vulcana’s loss, that’s basically what Cap was) into the tournament, primed to evolve mid-fight to unleash unprepared savagery?

 

Damn. Guy was scary.

 

Reed was doing well, still going after the downed Tyranitar. But even as the small punishments added up, the monster lumbered to a standing position, snarling. It chucked rocks at Reed, who skirted sidewise, and then hurled them _again_. That second set of missiles clipped him, making him stagger backwards, and that was the moment that the Tyranitar needed.

 

_“Hyper Beam!”_ the armor-clad woman commanded again, and her pet monstrosity obliged. The adversary unleashed a devastating bolt, but Reed was nowhere near as nimble as Cap, and it— _it struck him head on_.

 

The explosion filled the arena with dust and more than a few of the attendees gasped, the point-blank execution too much even for them. Amidst the dust a still form was seen. Rui’s hands were balled so tight they were white, and the beast snarled in Argyle’s heart. They’d killed one of his friends. They’d killed—but no! Reed rolled over, bruised and trembling and wheezing but _alive._ He forced the beast down, with more difficulty than before.

 

The Tyranitar snarled and prepared another attack but Rui withdrew him before it could move. The creature looked furious; hell, it looked ready to attack Rui herself, but it was doubtful that Miror B or his stooge would break that rule in front of so many witnesses. Miror B had to toe the line between moxie and weakness.

 

The next pokemon to be released was Tama, who stared up at the creature. His chest rose and fell with breath. “I need to rely on you,” Rui said, and he nodded slowly before trundling out to fight.

 

As Tama dodged rocks and squinted from the sandstorm, fighting to get close enough to hit his opponent, Rui took out Cap and Reed’s poke balls before releasing Denri.

 

“He’s not going to fight!” she said, casting a venomous gaze at the announcer’s box, staving off what looked like an objection on behalf of Miror B.. “So I’m not breaking any rules.”

 

Denri was staring wide-eyed at the towering Tyranitar. “I—wh-whuh—”

 

“Denri, focus!” Rui said, snapping a finger in front of his eyes. “I need you to take these to Duking. Both of them are really hurt!”

 

She handed him the poke balls. He looked down at them and then back at the Tyranitar. “But I… I can fight!” His voice wavered as he said it, just a bit, but there was fire to his eyes.

 

_Damn,_ thought Argyle. _First time I’ve seen Denri afraid of anything._ And the Ampharos still was willing to throw down. Argyle’s estimation of him rose.

_._

“No.” Rui shook her head. “He can use Ground-type moves, I saw them against Cap… one hit from those and a follow-up Hyper Beam, and you’re dead.” Grabbing his paws, she pushed them—poke balls and all—against his chest. “Your friends need you, Denri.”

 

He looked frustrated, but he nodded and bolted off.

 

Tama was having trouble reaching the Tyranitar. Even with a lame leg—for the limb Reed had attacked was having difficulties—the massive pokemon was simply too big for the squat Fighting-type to reach. A single step back took him a good six or seven of Tama’s paces. The only positive was that he wasn’t using Hyper Beam. Perhaps he was worried that if he missed, the Fighting-type attacks would bring him down while he recharged?

 

“This isn’t working,” Rui muttered after Tama dodged a particularly massive rock. “We need to change tactics.”

 

Recalling him, she sent out Luna, who couldn’t help but retreat a few steps back when she saw the size of her opponent. “Wait for our opportunity to get close,” Rui said, “then use our secret weapon!” Luna gulped, nodded, and lunged into battle.

 

“Secret weapon?” Argyle asked.

 

Eying him, Rui smiled. “You didn’t think you were the only one I practiced a special strategy with, did you?”

 

Luna was swifter than Tama, and quickly caught up to the Tyranitar. Dancing around his stomping feet, she nipped at his heels, the attacks weak but doubtless irritating. The creature’s all-defining anger seemed to grow more with each small bite. But the sandstorm was still wearing her down, and one errant hit was all it took to knock her a few paces away. Immediately, the Tyranitar began charging up a Hyper Beam—but Luna was already on her feet and racing at him. The Tyranitar’s trainer seemed to realize what was going to happen a moment before it did, and tried to tell him to stop, but it was too late. The Rock-type launched his attack right at Luna.

 

Who was standing a breath away from his own two legs.

 

The explosion rocked the arena, and the Tyranitar fell to the arena floor, screaming. His hurt leg had taken the brunt of the explosion and looked especially nasty, and his eyes were focusing and unfocusing. Then Luna, shaken from the explosion but still standing, jumped onto his body and scrambled down until she stood over his face.

 

“Now, like we practiced!” Rui commanded. “Toxic!”

 

At Rui’s command, a soft purple glow suffused around Luna’s body, congealing into a noxious smoke that drifted down directly into the enemy’s eyes and mouth. It howled in pain and Rui grinned. “That should teach it a—”

 

But the creature’s arm snaked up, grabbed Luna’s tail, and brought her slamming down into the arena floor. The sound make Argyle shudder. That was happening to his friend

 

Inside of him, the beast growled.

 

The Tyranitar did it again. The impact brought tears to Luna’s eyes.

 

The beast grew stronger when he saw the look in on Luna’s face.

 

Slowly, agonizingly, the Tyranitar forced itself up, snarling, and then hurled her across the arena. She crumpled there, whimpering, as it readied another Hyper Beam…

 

Roaring, the beast woke, clawing its way to dominance, as the shadows took Argyle.

 

“Recall Luna!” he snarled, furious that he had to even deign to waste words on this silly human. Rui looked shocked but did as he commanded. The moment Luna was in her ball, he took off.

 

_Consume_ , the beast inside of him impelled. _Make them suffer, make them hurt, it all belongs to **you**. _

 

The Tyranitar unleashed the beam. Could Argyle’s barriers stop such a mighty blow? Perhaps not on their own. But at the beast’s urging, with the beast’s help, he infused it with shadows and darkness.

 

The beam struck the barrier, and the barrier held.

 

Argyle ignored the shocked gasps and cheers coming from the crowd, ignored the panicked look on the face of the Tyranitar’s trainer. He zeroed in on look on the Tyranitar’s face. Fear.

 

_Good,_ the beast inside of him purred. _Make him feel it._

 

So this creature thought it was powerful? What if it fought against the true might of a shadow pokemon?

 

With the beast’s blessing, Argyle wreathed his wings in shadow and slammed them into the Tyranitar’s head. Circling around, he brought his talons low. _The eyes,_ urged the beast, _go for the eyes, make him **regret**._

 

His talons raked one of the creature’s eyes and it reeled back, clutching its face, screaming. Veins of purple were starting to stand out underneath his armor: Luna’s Toxic at work. This would be over soon.

 

In retaliation, the Tyranitar began flinging boulders across the battlefield, willy-nilly. One of them even clipped Argyle, but he didn’t even care. It was fine, he was—

 

Why was Rui yelling at him?

 

It was quite distracting. Stupid human. Didn’t she recognize his power. So what if he was badly hurt?

 

…he was _what?_

 

The moment it came on him was not only sudden but almost life-changing, like when you suddenly realize that you are in a dream. All of the pain he had sustained—the force of the beam hitting his shield, being clipped by the rock, the continued grinding of the sandstorm—came at Argyle at once and hit him like a hammer. He thought he might faint.

 

_Keep going,_ urged the beast, and it was hard not to listen—but the last time he’d followed this urge so blindly, he’d almost killed his friends on a rooftop. He beat down the beast and, struggling against its anger, flew back towards Rui.

 

She looked down at him with concern, and he blinked blearily up at her. “‘M fine,” he said, wincing at what it cost him to speak. “Finish him off.” She nodded and released Tama yet again.

 

Argyle could barely watch the fight. He was pained, disoriented, and fighting the beast. He _still_ felt the urge to return to savagery, to give into the shadows, but finally, the feeling went away. He leaned back, panting.

 

It took him a few moments to realize the beast was _still there._

 

Every time it had appeared, the shadows and the bloodlust had come with it. The beast was the shadows, the shadows _were_ the beast.

 

But now the shadows were gone, but the beast remained.

 

The world spun hazily, like a mirage, and Argyle couldn’t know if what he was experiencing was a phantom hallucination. It felt like something inside of him… the beast… was _watching_ the world. Seeing it through his eyes. It took in all of it, the fight, the crowds, Rui and Miror B, and from deep in his heart—the place where the beast normally raged—there was a tether of ambitious hunger.

 

Argyle tried to beat it down and the beast brushed aside his efforts. He shut his eyes, willed the noise of the crowd away from himself, and there was a momentary twinge of dissatisfaction and anger. But then, deprived of stimulus, the thing inside his soul began to wilt, until what was left was a…

 

A…

 

A pearl, endlessly dreaming.

 

Argyle opened his eyes and the pearl-that-was-the-beast rumbled but did not awake and he trembled with fear.

 

What had just happened? What _was_ that? He probed the space where it had occupied, seeing the world through his eyes, and what was left was naught but a hole that reeked of wicked mockery.

 

The battle. The battle. He had to focus on the battle.

 

Blinded, weak from poison, and lame, the Tyranitar could not outpace Tama this time. The Fighting-type closed the distance, assailing his enemy with a flurry of punches, and when the Tyranitar leaned over to crush him beneath one giant claw, Tama caught the creature, and then—with an exertion of tremendous effort—he spun, _lifting_ the monster off its feet and spinning it overhead to slam into the earth.

 

All was quiet, for a breath.

 

And then the colosseum erupted into cheers and hoots. The sound was almost deafening. The men and women were on their feet, clapping, hollering. They had come to pledge obeisance to Miror B and now more than a few were chanting his rival’s name. Rui smiled at the cheering crowd, eyed the announcer’s box, and did a brief, impish curtsy, before turning heel. Argyle, unable to perch on her shoulder, was cradled against her chest, and Tama followed close behind.

 

Rui was talking about how good they had done, Tama interjecting on occasion. Argyle… Argyle was thinking about something entirely different.

 

“—we have a shot, Argyle?”

 

He blinked. “Huh?”

 

Rui frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

 

A stillness in his heart. _A pearl, endlessly dreaming._

 

“I’m fine.”


	21. Chapter 19

Cap yawned, stretched out, and winced.

 

His sister, lounging on a cushion set out for them by Duking, looked over at him with what might have been one of her patented I-told-you-so glances, so her stuck his tongue out at her—and winced again. A TV showing Miror B’s tournament (on an underground, locals-only channel) flickered with snowy static. Two no-name criminals were fighting; it had been a while since Rui had to step up to the plate. There were only two battles left slated for her the entire tournament: a semifinal match and the final.

 

His ear itched, but when he lifted his back leg to it, a shiver of pain knifed through his body. Yowch. Boy, but that Tyranitar had messed him out but good.

 

To be honest, none of them looked like they were having a good day. All of them had been patched up as best they could be by Duking but… _Orre really should have invested in some proper Pokemon Centers by now_ , Cap sulked.

 

“Will our trainer be able to make it through without us?” Reed said, his voice low and even. Cap still wasn’t sure if his way of talking was because he’d gotten thrashed by that monster, or if that was just the way he talked. Reed never really let anyone get close to him except for Luna.

 

“She’ll be okay,” Cap drawled lazily. The other pokemon in the room—his sister, Reed, and Argyle—turned to look at him. “She has _superpowers._ ”

 

Argyle, Reed, and Luna shared a long look before Luna coughed and said, “Cap, Rui’s… not the one fighting. Her powers don’t matter in this tournament.”

 

Curses. Shown up again. No way could he let that stand! He had to come up with something. A real zinger.

 

“ _You_ don’t matter in this tournament!”

 

Cap smirked. Yeah. Nailed it.

 

“Cap…” Luna said with that annoying’“professional killjoy’ voice. In response, Cap filled his forehead gem with awesomeness. Luna raised one eyebrow

 

“Uh, Cap,” Argyle said, stepping in to mediate, “you _know_ that your sister’s immune to psychic power, right?”

 

He considered it. “You’re totally right,” he said, nodding to Arglye. “Thanks.”

 

As Argyle deflated with relief, Cap turned his awesomeness to the half-eaten bowl of kibble behind his sister. One of the crunchy pellets lifted up and pelted her in the back of the head.

 

An ear twitched. She turned her gaze to Cap. He whistled the ‘Captain Justice’ theme song.

 

“You know I can still see your gem shining,” she said in a long-suffering voice.

 

“I’m not using my powers on you, though,” he said angelically as another piece of kibble met the back of her head.

 

Argyle looked back and forth between them with a mixture of worry and anticipation. Reed was focused on the television.

 

With a dignified sniff, Luna crossed her paws and lay her head on them. “I’ll be the bigger mon. It’ll take more than that to rile me.”

 

Challenge accepted.

 

A few seconds later the entire kibble dish rose by the power of awesomeness and upended itself on her. As his sister glared at him beneath her sullied, treat-ridden dignity, Cap winked.

 

The water dish followed.

 

With a wordless cry, his sister launched herself at him. They tumbled off Cap’s cushion, and both fell apart in wheezing, groaning messes. _Oh yeah. The whole got-our-asses-kicked-in-a-tournament thing._

Cap took a half-hearted cuff at his sister, fell short, and watched his paw fall limply on the floor. He laughed, which made him wince, which made him laugh more, which made _Luna_ laugh, and the two of them were trading wimpy play-blows and cringe-laughing between them before Reed finally walked over. The Quagsire effortlessly separated them.

 

“Aw, c’mon Reed,” pouted Cap. “Not letting me tease my sister is like, cultural appropriation.”

 

“I don’t think you’re using that term correctly,” he rumbled back, “and Rui wouldn’t appreciate you two getting even more hurt than usual. Also, she’s back on.”

 

Urge to fight wholly evaporated, Cap wriggled until he was able to see the TV. Behind him he heard Luna angle herself to see better—and then collapse, panting. Alarmed, Cap turned his head to look at her. She’d been hurt by the Tyranitar too; had he overestimated her recovery? He liked pranking his sister, but he didn’t want to _hurt_ her.

 

Reed was quietly helping his sister up. Her legs shook—and then she leaned against him for support. At her touch, Reed tensed—but the normally standoffish pokemon didn’t push her away.

 

Cap smiled. So.

 

\---

 

Rui drummed her fingers against her thighs. She was so close.

 

Two trainers were all she needed to win the tournament and sweep Miror B’s power base out from under him. His gamble against her with the Tyranitar had almost succeeded, but its loss had backfired spectacularly. Large swaths of the crowd was on her side, and those that weren’t were too afraid of her. Any hopes that the Tyranitar had broken her ability to fight had evaporated the first round after, when Denri had routed the whole enemy team. With Tama and Striga backing him up, the Ampharos was more than proficient enough to win the tournament. One opponent post-Tyranitar had just flat-out forfeited. Three pokemon weren’t ideal, but in Orre, they would be enough.

 

The announcer called her to the arena. She strode down confidently. While waiting for her opponent to arrive, she glanced up at the announcer’s box and found Miror B looking down at her. Had he realized already that his defeat was inevitable? At this point, breaking his own rules and going after her would surely turn the crowd against him. (Rui had learned that the attendees took their “honor among thieves” rules seriously. One participant who was found trying to give his opponent’s pokemon a poisoned poffin had almost been killed in retribution. The man would probably be hospitalized for a good month.)

 

 _Sweat, you bastard,_ Rui thought, staring the crime boss down. _Break. Flee for your life._ For a man doomed to have everything shattered from his grip, whose attempt against her had failed, Miror B looked remarkably calm and composed. Her hands tightened until her knuckles grew white. This was for killing Vulcana, and for almost killing Cap and Luna and the others. For all the pokemon he’d abused and trafficked. It ended _tonight._

 

Her opponent stepped onto the field, and her mouth tightened. He was a man named Kurza. A Pyrite native, he was a thug known to her from her time as the town’s would-be sheriff, though she’d never directly encountered him.

 

She wish she had. He had a reputation as a pokemon abuser.

 

It amazed her that he had advanced this far in the tournament. His pokemon were strong but his battling skills were mediocre, and many of his later opponents (who appeared to be superior battlers) seemed to be throwing their matches. Had money changed hands? Or perhaps they were simply afraid of running into Rui herself, and figured Kurza as decent a yearling for the slaughter as any.

 

He sent out his first pokemon, a Trapinch, which was the one he’d relied on the most in previous battles. Like Rui herself, he only had three active pokemon. Only two of them had been shown so far.

 

She sent out Striga, whose levitation easily rendered the Trapinch useless as a threat. After a single scare from a Crunch attack—which Striga managed to dodge—the Trapinch went down to a salvo of Ghost-type moves.

 

Rather than recall it, Kurza ordered it over to his side, where he kicked the cringing thing before putting it back in its ball.

 

Rui barely fought down the urge to order Striga to give the punk a taste of his own medicine. She couldn’t break the tournament rules. Too much was on the line. After. _After,_ she would be able to direct Sherles to arrest him.

 

Her nails bit into her palms. She doubted her reasoning would have made the Trapinch feel any better.

 

 His next pokemon was a Banette. “You want to go back?” Rui asked Striga softly. Ghosts versus ghosts were chancy prospects.

 

Striga seemed to consider it, but shook their head. “I can handle it,” the little spectre said, their voice soft but vigilant. “I’ve got to pull my weight.”

 

The fight was trickier than the one against the Trapinch had been—the Banette was fast and had some tricky moves, and may even have been fully stronger than Striga. But the little Misdreavus was better at using misdirection and status moves, and after managing to disorient the Banette, they hit it with a powerful Ghost-type attack that sent it reeling.

 

At the hit, Kurza began spewing vitriol at his pokemon, his voice low and ugly. The words shook the Banette more than the blow seemed to have, and the pokemon began fighting with a desperate fearfulness that threw it off. Before long, Striga had claimed victory.

 

Thankfully, the Banette was fully knocked, out, so Rui didn’t have to see Kurza abuse that one either, though he looked at its poke ball darkly. She hated him even more.

 

 _Soon,_ she promised the poor creature. _I’m sorry. Soon._

 

“Looks like you’re the queen bitch everyone says you are,” Kurza snapped, unclipping his last poke ball. “Guess you can wipe up this one too.” He glared at the ball in his hand. “Thought it would help, but the stupid thing can barely fight… And I blew so much on it.” His eyes looked like two pieces of dull slate, hard and unreflective. He released his last pokemon.

 

Rui’s breath caught.

 

It was a Yanma, a completely ordinary-looking Bug-type. It was also a shadow pokemon. Even though she hadn’t opened herself to Aura, she could see the shadows radiating off of it in waves. But unlike most shadows, the creature did not seem captive to anger or emotional muteness.

 

It seemed scared and miserable.

 

If Kurza’s previous two pokemon had seemed abused, they had nothing on this poor creature. Its carapace was cracked in places; one of its wings were bruised. Its eyes scanned the stands, fearful at the crowds, and flinching at every sound. It wavered in the air, unable to hold in place.

 

“Whoa,” came the announcer’s voice. “That thing really looks like it got put through the wringer.” He laughed uncomfortably. “If Matsuhara doesn’t watch herself, she could get kicked out of the tournament for killing an adversary’s pokemon.”

 

“Sure, sure,” came Miror B’s smooth and easy reply. He leaned in, and though he spoke into the mic, his eyes assailed Rui like arrows. “And if she don’t, Kurza might finish the job hisself, if the cat’s rep be any guide.”

 

Miror B was right. Kurza would beat the Yanma if he didn’t win.

 

In its current state, he would kill it.

 

Rui locked eyes with Miror B. He grinned, slightly. That _bastard._

The Tyranitar hadn’t been his only play. If brawn didn’t work, all he had to do was aim for her heart. He’d arranged a temperamental, abusive trainer to get an underwhelming shadow pokemon to take his anger out on. He’d arranged for Kurza’s opponents to dive, ensuring he made it to face her.

 

Her temple throbbed. Dammit. _Dammit._

 

“Um, Rui?” Striga called, dodging a slow and pathetic attack from the Yanma. “What should I do?”

 

“Dodge it for now,” Rui said. “Don’t—don’t hurt it.” Striga nodded and looked at the Yamna with pity, backing away from its easily-countered moves.

 

The colosseum had grown quiet. Why hadn’t Rui clinched the match? What was going on? Some of the attendees looked discomforted at the state of the Yanma, but not _that_ discomforted. They were criminals, and some doubtless trafficked in pokemon, or participated in underground rings. They couldn’t see the thing’s fragmented aura, which was bleeding through to her eyes, like red-and-black snowfall, pleading for help.

 

She had the Snag Machine. It was a shadow pokemon. She could steal the thing away and give it a home. She could do it. She could save it.

 

Striga and the shadow Yanma continued their ineffectual dance. She could Snag the Yanma. She could save it.

 

 _Honor among thieves._ They would turn on her in an instant. She might escape (Sherles’s man in the stands could teleport her out) but Miror B would be back on top. The cost of doing so… All the effort to get here, spent. Cap and Luna and Reed and Argyle’s fight against the Tyranitar for nothing. Vulcana’s sacrifice, _wasted._

 

Miror B had removed his shades. One half of his neck and face were an ugly red. He would have scars forever, thanks to Vulcana. But looking down at her with his smug smile, he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes, uncovered, burned like embers. She thought back to their conversation in the darkened streets, how she’d stood up for pokemon against him. How stupid. That was ammunition against her she’d given him freely. This attack was engineered to strike at her greatest weakness.

 

She could end that smile forever. She could beat Kurza and thrash whoever made it to the final round. Nothing the final trainer sent out would be able to top that Tyranitar. She had this. She had this! She could win! She could beat Miror B!

 

And all she had to do was condemn that Yanma to die to do it.

 

As the thing’s attacks continued failing to land, Kurza was growing more and more agitated. He was alternately hurling hate at his poor pokemon, which whimpered every time he opened his mouth, and denigrating Rui. He seemed to think her reluctance to end the fight was an attempt to humiliate him. He would kick and beat that Yanma. He might even set his other pokemon on it.

 

It wouldn’t survive. It could barely even fly.

 

 _One pokemon._ That’s all it would take to end Miror B’s reign. One pokemon. There was so much misery the man enabled. So many he hurt. What was one pokemon in the grand scheme of things?

 

The thing grew too tired to fly. It crumpled to the ground, panting, as Kurza’s voice grew more furious and lambasting. “Please,” it whimpered in a tiny voice. No, not it. _He._ “I’ll fight harder, master, just _please._ ” Of course Kurza couldn’t hear.

 

That Yanma… he was all that needed to be offered to bring down Miror B. To bring justice for Vulcana’s murder. Hadn’t she already accepted that losses might be necessary? She knew coming here that she or any one of her team might perish in the attempt.

 

Kurza screamed at the Yanma and he trembled. “Please,” he whispered. He was so _young._ “Arceus, Mew, anyone, please…”

 

But this Yanma had not made that choice. She imagined Pompom in his place, the little Aipom sacrificed for a greater cause while pleading for mercy.

 

Miror B was smiling. His teeth showed.

 

Spirits above, but what kind of life had the little thing lived? Had he endured his whole life as a miserable captive?

 

_Herself, in the trunk…_

 

Her hands hurt. Rui looked down to see that she’d clenched her hands so tightly that her fingernails were drawing blood from her palm. _I can’t,_ she realized. _I can’t._

 

“Striga,” she said, her command low. The Ghost-type, who had been watching the Yanma endure Kurza’s hate, turned to face her. They looked like they were about to cry.

 

“Yes, Rui?” they asked, their voice tight with emotion. All shadow pokemon suffered. How many past experiences had this miserable little bug made them reminisce?

 

“Bind him. Gently,” she said.

 

A panoply of emotions played out on Striga’s face—relief, understanding, gratitude. Under their direction, a handful of small shadowy tendrils wrapped around the Yanma. As the creature was constrained, Rui reached up and turned on the Snag Machine. The pauldron unfolded, covering her arm.

 

Was the stadium as quiet as she thought, or was it just herself, lost in her own mind? The Yanma didn’t fight against his bindings. She threw the poke ball almost mechanically.

 

The ball clicked. The Yanma was hers.

 

The stadium exploded with fury.

 

Kurza was screaming about theft, about breach of honor, and every attendee was on their feet. Some looked shocked or dismayed; others were already releasing pokemon. Before long, there were dozens. Too many for her three to overcome.

 

She withdrew Striga. She could only hope for Sherles now.

 

As the attendees yelled and the horde of pokemon prepared to go after her, she looked up and met Miror B’s eyes. He wore the look of a gambler whose long bet had paid off. He winked and then leaned back, satisfied.

 

Before the first attacks could reach her, there was a prickling sensation that surrounded her body, and then she saw light—and she was back at Duking’s house. Sherles’s man in the stands had done his job. She’d been teleported out.

 

Robotically, she set down the Yanma’s poke ball. He would have no place on her team, but Duking’s daughters would shower it with kindness, as they did the other shadows she didn’t battle with. He would have as good a life as she could give him.

 

From down the hall, she heard the idle, tinny sound of a bad television set. The announcer’s voice was still talking about the ‘disappointing turn’ that had just occurred. She followed the sound, and as she walked in the room, the focus was on the announcer. Behind him, Orre’s greatest crime boss sat back, unworried, as those criminals who had almost defected to Rui came flocking back to him. He was secure.

 

Rui’s hand hurt. She was idly aware that she had punched a wall, that Cap and Luna and the others were looking at her with concern, their eyes turned from the set. She sank to her knees, screaming in frustration.

 

She had done the right thing.

 

And Miror B had defeated her for it.


	22. Chapter 20

I find myself in need of a place to catalogue my thoughts. There are forces working against me within the Cipher.

 

Lovrina, my apprentice, has been working behind my back, trying to craft a new kind of shadow pokemon. She’s using Miror B’s lair as a testing ground, away from my supervision.

 

The damn thing is, they’re succeeding. These new pokemon are more feral and savage than ever. They don’t live very long, but if their lifespan could be extended…

 

She’s good. If she succeeds, I could be ousted.

 

Considered stealing her research or eliminating her. Too risky. Miror B’s mixed up in it too and he’s too hard to get rid of. If I move against him, the High Council will be breathing down my back.

 

Perhaps it’s time to move up my schedule. I’m making the shadows for myself, not for them. I could depose them right now.

 

…Patience, Ein. Patience. You didn’t come this far to throw it away on impulse.

 

Lovrina and Miror B are in the dark regarding me thus far. I need only wait for one or both to show weakness. And if they succeed… it’s another weapon in my arsenal.

 

Besides. I have certain tricks of my own.

 

\---

 

Vonn rolled the silver pocketwatch between his fingers, smirking down at it. Even now, in the post-midnight darkness, he fancied he could spy some errant starlight gleaming off of it.

 

He had taken it off of some old man in an out-of-fashion brown suit. When he was stealing the man’s Electrike, the old geezer had offered the watch to him instead. Vonn had simply taken both and kicked him in the ribs for good measure.

 

Miror B got the pokemon, of course, but the booty was Vonn’s to keep.

 

Swinging the stolen item around on its chain, he glanced up. The Red & White was closed tonight; boss’s orders. Vonn and another new recruit, a fiery and ruthless young woman named Syka, prowled outside, making sure only members of Miror B’s gang were allowed in.

 

Syka was sour that she wasn’t allowed inside on such a big night, but Vonn didn’t care. He had no desire to be a big name, only to operate in a place that didn’t punish him for slaking his impulses. That was why he’d come to participate in the tournament.

 

He kicked back on the camp chair he’d brought along. (Lurking outside a dimmed club for several hours was hell on your feet.) What a tournament it had been. That bitch, Rui Matsuhara, had almost stolen the thunder, but Miror B beat her in the end. It had been six days since then, and she’d stayed cooped up inside Duking’s place.

 

Meanwhile, Pyrite was _theirs._

 

Muggings. Break-ins. Extortion. Pokemon abductions. _People_ abductions. More than a few murders.

 

Vonn chuckled to himself. What could Pyrite’s sop of a police chief possibly do about it? Sherles had been unable to keep Miror B in check _before_ the latter’s successful recruitment drive through the tournament. Now that their numbers were bigger than ever…

 

They made the rules, now.

 

Syka’s steps rang out behind him, and she smacked him in the back of his head. “You’re not here to loaf,” she spat. Vonn, pocketing the watch, let a small growl bubble in his throat. Spirits above, but he _hated_ uppity women. He flexed his hands, imagining them around Syka’s pretty neck… but no. She’d somehow tricked someone into giving her a decent battling pokemon, and she wouldn’t hesitate to sic it on him. So he stayed his tongue and filed it away. Vonn was patient and had no trouble waiting for a chance to pay her back when she wasn’t on guard.

 

Stayed in his seat, though.

 

Syka, unappreciative of that, turned and glared at him. He glared back. The two of them were so engrossed that they didn’t register a shadow slowly coalescing in a nearby alley until it was almost on them.

 

The woman was the first to notice. She whipped her head to the side and skipped back, Vonn leaping out of his chair and grabbing his poke ball. “Club’s _closed,”_ he snarled. He wanted to unleash his pokemon on the interloper right now, but Miror B had told them to offer one warning first. “Bodies keep folk outta clubs,” he’d said.

 

“You get one shot,” Syka echoed, releasing her Magmar. “I won’t warn—”

 

Syka’s voice died away as the Magmar’s fire illuminated the alleyway. It was her—Matsuhara.

 

And behind her lurked a horde of _five_ pokemon: a Quagsire, an Ampharos, a Noctowl, a Makuhita, a Misdreavus.

 

Before Vonn or Syka could reach for their two-way radios, Matsuhara spoke. “Don’t bother. You reach for them, my Ampharos will fry them—and the people wearing them.”

 

Syka spat. “Nice try, oathbreaker. We know your rep. You don’t go after humans!” Her hand raced down for her waist.

 

The Ampharos was faster. Its lightning split the night. Electricity arced through Vonn’s body, the sensation like accidentally hitting a nerve but ten times more agonizing. His throat strained to scream even as his muscles spasmed, denying him the opportunity. He dropped to the ground, the thud sudden and painful, and a few paces away Syka did the same. He felt his radio spark and smoke on his waist.

 

From his vantage point, paralyzed at the bottom of the world, he saw the alleyway dim as Syka’s Magmar was knocked unconscious by the Quagsire. Errant footsteps, the sounds heavy from the boots Matsuhara was wearing, rang in his ears until she loomed over him. Squatting down, she gave him a once-over and nodded.

 

“Well, look at that. You actually lived. That’s good news.” She rifled through his jacket and pockets for a key, ignoring his indignant sputters and attempts at movement. “Figured he could do it, but wasn’t sure, you know?” Finding the door key to the Red & White, she stood, pocketing it. “Not that it would have been that big a deal if so.” Her tone was dry and matter-of-fact, like the Orresian wind. She had never once even looked at his face.

 

“Stu—pid— _bitch!_ ” Vonn forced out between gritted teeth.

 

Matsuhara blinked once, stared down at him for a moment. Then she lifted one booted foot and brought it down onto his nose.

 

He felt it break and agony knifed through his face. He choked out barely-coherent sobs of pain and rage as she rolled him onto his stomach with all the dignity of a rubbish bin. So that he wouldn’t drown in blood, he realized.

 

As she rolled him over, the pocketwatch fell out of his coat. Vonn could only sit there in impotent fury as she picked it up. “Wow, nice,” she said. “Think I’ll keep it.” As she stepped away, she called out one final order: “Argyle, Striga, like we discussed. Make sure they don’t bother us for a good long while.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Vonn saw the Misdreavus drift over to Syka and put her to sleep. He heard the beating of wings overhead and felt psychic power probing at his mind.

 

As he was forced into slumber, his last clear thought was one of fear. Matsuhara hadn’t killed them, but for failing to keep her away, Miror B would.

 

\---

 

As her pokemon put the two doorguards to sleep, Rui fit her key into the door and twisted it. Once it was ready, she opened it.

 

Beyond the door was, as expected, a long and barren hallway which led to the club proper. Currently, it was lit with only a few sparse, flickering electric lights stuck every ten feet or so in the ceiling.

 

Lounging in the hall were three more guards.

 

They all turned to her as the door swung open, and she saw their faces shift from boredom to surprise to resolution.

 

The nearest guard, a squat man with heavy five o’clock shadow, reached for his pokeball, snarling orders.

 

He never got the chance. Rui’s fist took him right in the face. She was wearing the Snag Machine; he crumpled back against the wall, out of the fight.

 

The two further back managed to release their pokemon before Denri sent a surge of electricity down the hall, shocking the radios into destruction and sending the two men spasming onto the floor like the guards outside. The errant power blew the lights.

 

They fought in the dark.

 

In that windowless hallway, now lit only from what little light spooled in from outside, Rui’s shadows and the guards’s pokemon clashed. She heard snarls, blows, battle cries. Her shadow pokemon weren’t holding anything back. They were embracing the full force of their savagery.

 

She had told them to.

 

The man she’d punched stirred at her feet, groaning, reminding her of the two outside. She was glad she hadn’t had to shock him. All it took was for one of these men to have a pacemaker, or even just a weak heart in general, and Denri’s paralyzing shocks would be lethal.

 

She was willing to take that risk, and hated that she was willing.

 

She stuck her hand in her duster pocket. There, alongside the watch she’d taken from the man outside, were five photos. She had to be strong. She had to.

 

Denri’s tail filled the room with soft crimson light, and for a moment Rui had an eerie sensation, as though she was in a science fiction movie aboard a derelict space station, everything colored red. Her team was all still standing, and the two enemy pokemon were on the ground.

 

One was dead.

 

She didn’t know which of the five had killed it. Didn’t _want_ to know. Every one of her shadows had killed another pokemon before she’d Snagged them. She suspected one or two might have even killed people. It wasn’t something they talked about. It wasn’t their fault—not fully, at least.

 

And yet, despite the progress she’d made… how easily they regressed when she told them that tonight, they could kill if they had to. There had been a pause when she’d told them that. “Even people?” Tama asked quietly.

 

That had given her a pause of her own. But she thought back to the five photos she’d shown them, the ones she carried with her now. “If you have to,” she’d said softly after a moment’s notice.

 

Tama, quiet Tama, had nodded at that, and she hated herself even more. She had named him that because he was _not_ a weapon— _until you need him to be,_ she thought at herself bitterly.

 

She had not forced them to do this. She had given all five a chance to bow out, and none of them had. Maybe that’s how she justified it to herself

 

Seeing how they each regarded the dead pokemon, a Smeargle, with dispassion, she realized it didn’t matter who did it. They were all capable.

 

It was why she hadn’t told Cap or Luna. Had left them dozing at Duking’s, none the wiser to what their trainer and their team had planning. They weren’t ready for something like this.

 

She stepped over the Smeargle. She couldn’t afford to care now, either. “Sherles’s intel suggests Miror B is here—along with Revy and at least one of his suppliers,” she said. “He’s the top priority, the supplier is second, Revy third.” _A serpent without a head…_

 

She was done playing nice. Done walking the streets and joining tournaments. This is what she should have done from the start. Playing the nice girl in the tournament, doing the right thing, had only left her isolated and vulnerable and unable to defend the city. She should never have even bothered with it. Having to choose between the Yanma and her victory was a choice she’d brought on herself by not acting more decisive, sooner.

 

 

 

She felt the five photos in her pocket. It ended _tonight._

 

At the end of the hallway were stairs. She strode up them, gathered her team as best behind her she could, reiterating their plan. “Argyle, you’re shielding me. Striga, use your powers to knock out the trainers. Denri, Tama, Reed… cut loose.”

 

Reed inhaled sharply; Tama’s fists tightened; Denri smirked, his hands sparking. How quickly they fell into old habits.

 

Rui kicked the door down onto the club floor. There were several dozen of Miror B’s stooges, all of whom looked shocked to see her.

 

And pandemonium was born.

 

Denri unleashed a wave of electricity on the nearest goons. Not to stop them from radioing for help—that ship had sailed the moment they opened the door. No, that was simply to put them on the ground until Striga could get to them. In the back, the trainers untouched by Denri pulled out their pokemon. Flashes lit the Red & White as they were summoned. Soon, there was a cluster of around thirty pokemon ready to make battle.

 

They faced three shadows, unleashed.

 

With a cry, Tama sunk his fist into the nearest pokemon—a Zigzagoon—and hurled it into the next closest foe. Reed summoned a tide of water and pushed back against an entire line of adversaries. And Denri…

 

Denri was lightning personified. Like lightning, those he struck tended to stay down. Like lightning, his raw and spectacular power was met with a mixture of awe and fear.

 

He was indiscriminate like lightning, too. More than a few attacks hit Ground-types who shrugged them off. Others missed pokemon entirely, slamming into chairs and walls and countertops, leaving fireworks of sparks and blackened soot marks. Rui tried to tell him to focus, aim, be more careful, but he ignored her. His eyes were wild and thirsty for destruction. The self-controlled edge to his love for battle that had been so carefully honed was dull once more, leaving a blunt instrument that was good only for destruction.

 

_Forgive me,_ she thought, averting her eyes.

 

Earlier that evening, when Rui had laid out her plan to the shadows, she’d expected—or perhaps hoped—for them to protest. To call her on the debasing way she intended to deploy them, to show indignation at being used the same way they had been used by their past trainers. Instead, she was met with a quiet resignation. Acceptance. She’d hoped to bear their hate and instead found herself alone with her own, a far more daunting prospect.

 

But they had been convinced by what she’d showed them. That day, and the past four days, she’d received three things in the mail: a card bearing the insignia of the Red & White. A bullet. And a single photograph.

 

The subject of the photos varied day by day, but they always looked unaware that they were being photographed. The pictures showed them inside Duking’s estate, taken from the vantage point of windows or skylights.

 

Each picture had only one subject, with a bullet hole put precisely through their heart.

 

The first picture had been of Denri. Rui’s hands had shaken that night, and she’d insisted he stay in his ball. The next day, she received a picture of Duking. Then it was Luna. Then Cap.

 

As Miror B’s taunts climbed, Rui had sequestered herself away, as though she could hide from the reports. Life in Pyrite had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Beatings, thefts, killings. Duking never went anywhere without a police escort, and had forbidden his two daughters to leave his estate at all.

 

As the daily package of threats piled up, Rui began to wonder if she ought to just accept that she failed and leave. She could run back to Kanto, beyond Miror B’s reach, and take the shadow pokemon. Perhaps she could appeal to Silph to help cure them, or Professor Oak, or even entreat one of the Gym Leaders…

 

But the fifth photograph had changed everything.

 

The package had arrived and she’d opened it, dreading what she’d find. The bullet, of course. The calling card. But whose face would the photo show? Striga’s, perhaps? Little Tama’s? Reed’s? Perhaps Rui herself?

 

But when she saw who it was, she had just stared at it, shaking in quiet, seething anger. A minute passed. Five. Ten. The anger deepened, going from hot to a deep, hate-filled cold. And she still stared. She didn’t stop until she left to summon her shadow pokemon and end this once and for all.

 

The photo had showed Duking’s youngest daughter, a girl barely old enough to go to school, sleeping in her bed. The photo had been taken from inside the room, staring almost straight down at her. Like all the others, there was a bullet hole right over her little heart.

 

When she showed the shadows the photographs and came clean on the threats she’d been receiving, they’d all quieted at that picture. And when she proposed her plan using information she’d gleaned from Sherles—her plan to cut off the snake’s head, to put Miror B away, to finally _end_ it—none had objected, despite what it might mean to them. Worse than death. Reversion. Violence. To be made mere brutes once more.

 

They were willing to sacrifice their innocence to save the innocent.

 

_Arceus help me,_ Rui thought.

 

Tama was roaring now, furiously assailing other pokemon with a flurry of blows. He had given into the shadows—small tresses of red and black wisped from him, visible even though she was not open to Aura. He knocked one pokemon back and then, as it staggered, he grabbed its neck and—

 

Rui winced, looked away. Argyle, the only one of the team who was not expected to do great violence, covered her face with his wing. “I know,” he said, his voice sympathetic, perched reassuringly on her shoulder. “I know.”

 

Even in the thrall of bloodlust, Reed was quiet. The Quagsire summoned mud to beat down fiery adversaries, and shot a torrent of mighty water at a towering Nidoking. The pokemon toppled, crushing a smaller one beneath it.

 

Striga was putting trainers to sleep but had found themself locked in combat two bird pokemon. Snarling, the Ghost-type assailed them with spectral energy. One of the birds attempted to fly away, only for a sinewy dark tendril to leash itself around its leg and drag it back. “I’m not _done_ with you,” Striga said.

 

Denri was uncontrollable, spiking electricity every way he could. He seemed barely capable of restraining himself from firing on his teammates. The bulk of fallen enemy pokemon were due to him. Some of them were smoking; others stopped twitching only after their eyes grew glassy. Even a few humans had taken his bolts. They probably wouldn’t get up either.

 

Five photographs. Was it worth it? Rui realized, as her team rampaged through the Red & White, that she might actually win this. But was it worth it?

 

Reed slammed his tail into the floor and the building shook, part of the ceiling crumbling down. Trainers and pokemon scattered with a cry. Voices spiked from the floor above. A small pipe, exposed and broken from the collapse, began spewing water onto the floor.

 

Tama was striking anything he saw, leaving dents in walls and enemies broken behind him. He smashed a speaker in, hoisted it over his head, and hurled it at a nearby goon. The goon’s pokemon dived in at the last second, pushing her trainer out of the way. The Pikachu was not so lucky, her heart-tipped tail swallowed by the rolling rubble.

 

The goons were scattering, their pokemon breaking. They had never had to fight coordinated before, and many of them only had one or two relatively weak pokemon. The second floor was theirs. Miror B was up top. They could end this!

 

“Let’s go!” Rui called. “The way is open!”

 

Her shadows ignored her.

 

“Striga!” The Misdreavus didn’t respond, instead choosing to unleash a beam of psychic energy at a fleeing pokemon. “Reed! Tama, please!” Neither listened. “Denri! _Denri¸_ are you listening?”

 

The Ampharos turned to face her, his eyes manic. “Yo boss!” he said, his voice tinged with mockery. “What say we _really_ turn up the carnage!”

 

He turned to the dance floor and its massive, wall-sized fog machine. Before Rui could protest or reach for his poke ball, he’d loosed a massive bolt to it.

 

The machine sparked, smoked—and then exploded.

 

The burst was catastrophic, the blast knocking almost everyone aside. It was as if someone had launched a New Year’s firework inside the club. Argyle shielded Rui from the shockwave with a psychic wall, but the exertion required to hold out against it left him collapsed against her. He managed to murmur only a single apology before sinking into unconsciousness.

 

Surveying the desolated club, Rui saw that both Tama and Reed had fallen to the shockwave as well. She recalled her three unconscious pokemon and rose on unsteady legs. Striga was still duking it out with other pokemon, while Denri was staggering about, exulting in his own anarchy. Wisps of shadow spiraled from them both, visible only to her eyes.

 

At this rate, it seemed as though they would only bring down Miror B if the club came with him.

 

_What was I thinking?_ Rui lambasted herself. Unleashing shadow pokemon was like setting a building on fire. You thought you had it under control until the very moment everything went wrong…

 

She tried to take a step forward and collapsed, still woozy from the blast. Had Argyle not shielded her, she might be fully unconscious. None of the other humans seemed capable of standing.

 

Sound from above. The hole in the ceiling widened, and more pokemon poured out, directed by unseen voices.

 

Five photographs. She’d cast everything to the wind for five photographs.

 

The new wave of pokemon mobbed both Denri and Striga, rendering both unconscious. Rui didn’t even bother with the idea of running.

 

One of the pokemon, a Medicham, lifted her by her upper arm, and its trainer, another person wearing armor and a scarf like the woman she had faced in the tournament, smirked at her. “Well, well, well,” he said smoothly, as if explosions and a trashed club were everyday occurrences. “Bastard had it right after all.”

 

Holding hand his hand up to an earpiece, he said, “you were right, Miror B. She’s our culprit.” A paused, and then he smiled. “Seems fitting.”

 

As his hand fell, Rui raised her head. “Are you… going to kill me?” she said.

 

He laughed. “You like shadow pokemon? There’s a place Miror B keeps his particularly rowdy ones.” Eying his Medicham, he gestured out the window, towards the cliffside the club was built against. “Take her in the cave,” he ordered, “and throw her in the pit. Put her friends in their too.” He smiled at her. “Those shadow pokemon are always fighting each other. Would be nice if they had something else to take their aggression on.”

 

As the Medicham dragged Rui away, the other pokemon following suit with Striga and Denri, she had a momentary flash of desperation.

 

Five photographs. She’d impulsively thrown everything away over five photographs.

 

And then she slipped into merciful darkness.


	23. Chapter 21

When she woke, the first thing that struck her was the beauty. It was as if she was in some sort of fairyland cave—colored crystals in the walls, misting waterfalls, mosses and lichens that glowed faintly on the uneven stone.

 

The second thing that struck her was a fierce headache that left her reeling, her mind hazy from shock and pain.

 

Rui struggled to rise. Every part of her body ached as if she had been part of a brawl. Her mind was blurry from pain, and her body cried out in both hunger and thirst.

 

An unfamiliar figure was there to catch her weight against his.

 

“Shhh, shhh,” he said, his voice low and even. She blinked blearily up at him. He was a Mantine—hovering aboard the cavern floor with practiced ease. “Be still, little human. I have you.”

 

She groaned, knuckling her forehead. Everything hurt…

 

“Quiet, quiet,” the Mantine said, sheltering her. “You don’t want to provoke them.”

 

Provoke…?

 

As her mind finally cleared, Rui took new stock of where she was.

 

The cavern _was_ gorgeous-looking. It was a massive hollow, the size of a Unovan football stadium, with water flowing from crevasses and luminous growths. The crystals served as prisms, sending colored lights dancing across the walls. But most of the hollow had been converted into a massive prison-yard; pylons stuck into the ground like giant nails. Though the air between the pylons seemed clear, under scrutiny it wavered slightly, like the world seen through another person’s glasses. Some sort of energy or containment field. Looking overhead, Rui’s fears were confirmed—the ceiling was much the same way. They were caged in, then.

 

And they were not alone. Pokemon—several dozen of them—stalked the interior. If the pylons looked like nails, then the voices of the pokemon _sounded_ like nails; scratchy, scraping, hoarse. Rui shivered as she realized that nothing— _nothing_ —from these creatures bespoke intelligence. They snarled at each other, stalked on low limbs. Their eyes blazed with bloodlust and their lips peeled back in a tooth-baring rictus. Most bore wounds of some sort, and a few dark lumps scattered throughout the cavern attested to those who had lost their struggles.

 

A claw of sheer disgust tore at Rui’s heart. _No…_ It couldn’t be. This was beyond making creatures into shadow pokemon. There was no light of intellect or spark of self in these creatures’ eyes. They had been reduced into what Miror B and his kind considered pokemon to be: true animals.

 

She had to be missing something. Maybe she was looking at this the wrong way. Her powers defaulted to understanding pokemon _sounds,_ but she knew that if she concentrated, she could pick up more. The way they moved; even their smells. They communicated in subtler ways than humans and her abilities allowed her to zero in on them.

 

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to fall into stillness. No longer would she view the world through a human’s lens. She would see the pokemon on their own level.

 

When she opened them, everything was changed. The Mantine hovering near her spoke unsaid but clear messages with every flap of his wings: _safe—protect—trust—guardian._ It was as obvious as when a human changed her outfit for a rave compared to a job interview. The messages were unspoken but could not be clearer. Had his wingtips been flashing faster, she intuited, there would have been a lace of aggressiveness to him; the position of the two frond-like horns on the front of his face could move in signs of deference or command. Right now they spoke a quiet, stalwart form of leadership. This was a pokemon who was first-among-equals: he expected others to follow him not based on physical prowess but due to shared interests and mutual respect.

 

And there was more, too. The slowness of his wingbeats, the way his gills barely flapped, and the slight droop to his tail were things he was trying to conceal, but only partially successful at. They spoke to a deep weariness, the sort that, through grinding persistence, wore its victim down like a millstone.

 

And when she turned her eyes back to the feral pokemon, more messages were displaying themselves: _hunt—consume—hurt—devour—shatter—eat—_

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more, but she couldn’t hide from their scents. It was a reek of bloodlust and adrenaline, but far from momentary, it was permanent—as if someone had taken forced these pokemon exclusively into the _fight_ side of “fight or flight.” The smells were bestial, aggressive, and mindless, utterly mindless…

 

Breathing heavily, and trying to hide it to avoid drawing the attention of the feral pokemon, she forced herself out of her hyperaware mindset, and when she opened her eyes again, she operated on a human scale once more—the information she saw reduced to subtext her brain filtered through for her.

 

Gods above, spending all her time like that would be enough to drive her—to drive _anyone_ —mad.

 

The Mantine looked at her with open sympathy. “They told me you would want to help them,” he said softly. His voice had a grandfatherly quality despite his apparent youth—he could not have been that much older than Cap or Luna. “You cannot. They are beyond helping. They are less even than weapons, for a weapon can be controlled. They are… truly lost.”

 

Breathing in and out, Rui forced the storm of emotions in her chest—indignation, anguish, and sheer, panicked fear—to quiet. She was only partially successful. “Why haven’t they killed me?” she asked softly. The closest thing to a complex emotion she’d sensed in any of them was hate—hate for humans. They wished to rip them all asunder.

 

“They were beaten back,” the Mantine said. “Myself and the others like me—those here who are still ourselves, more or less—rallied with your team to protect you.” His wingtips drooped, and his scent conveyed an admission—shame. “We were… not ready to help you at first, but the bird, he brought us to your cause. His words even took your other teammates out of their stupors, and they joined in the fight. They are quite mighty…” He shook his head. “Combined, the Feral Ones could have overwhelmed us all, but they lack the ability to unify or coordinate.”

 

Scoping out the hollow once more, Rui realized that she and the Mantine were on one end, and that familiar faces—Denri, Reed, Striga—were patrolling it with the help of unfamiliar pokemon who did not carry themselves with the savagery of these Feral Ones: a Remoraid, a Dunsparce, a Meditite, a Swablu. There were others.

 

“They saved me...” Rui said softly. “You all did. And it was Argyle who did it? Where is he?”

 

Another shift in the Matine’s scents and body language: _regret—sorrow—mournfulness._ “He is there.”

 

He gestured to a form she knew as Tama, and he was standing over a slumped figure.

 

Argyle.

 

She didn’t realize she was crying, she didn’t realize she was _moving,_ until she was standing over him, tears streaming down her face. Tama looked up at her, and then normally taciturn pokemon held an air of quiet sadness. “Rui,” he said, softly. “We were hoping you’d wake up in time to say goodbye.”

 

He reached down and touched Argyle on his shoulder. The bird pokemon blinked and his chest rose and fell. He coughed, a wet and weak sound, and then shuddered as he did it. A number of nasty-looking wounds peppered his body.

 

“Hey… boss,” he said with a small laugh. “Never thought I’d end up taking command, ‘specially ‘gainst a horde like that.” He waved his wingtips in the vague direction of the Feral Ones. “But they got me pretty good.”

 

“I’m—I’m so s—”

 

Rui couldn’t even speak, her throat was so tight. She’d failed him. All of them. Her weakness and her impulsivity had cost them all everything.

 

“Sorry?” he finished for her. “For what? Boss… until you came along, the beast controlled me every single day. Now, I… I barely feel it at all anymore.” He leaned his head back, smiling up at the soft glow of the cavern mosses. “You _saved_ me.”

 

He closed his eyes, his haggard breathing slowly evening out as he slipped back into slumber. Tama idly touched her arm and led her away.

 

“We were too far gone to help him protect you at first,” he said softly. “He pulled us out. Maybe if we hadn’t lost ourselves to violence…”

 

 _Maybe_. It was an addictive drug, that word. Maybe if she’d done things differently. Maybe if the pokemon had fought with more strategy. Maybe if they had escaped immediately to get help… but no. Only a pokemon center could have treated _those_ kinds of wounds, and Pyrite had none.

 

“How long was I out?” she asked. “Those didn’t seem like fresh wounds.”

 

Tama shifted uncomfortably. “Those humans… they beat you up pretty bad. They made us watch while they did it. Even while lost in the bloodlust, I… didn’t like seeing it.”

 

She remembered vague, phantom images she had taken as nightmares. They had stolen the Snag Machine and pummeled her mercilessly before tossing her in the pit with the others.

 

“You were down for a while,” the Makuhita continued. “I don’t know for sure, but… two or three days, maybe.”

 

Almost half a week.

 

If help was going to come, it would have shown up already.

 

Excusing herself, Rui wandered away to the far side of space that her team and the Mantine’s allies had claimed as their own. Slumping against a suitcase-sized stone, she let anguish and weariness rock her into a dull half-slumber, her mind twisting upon itself, chasing the same ideas round and round in a circle, as if in a labyrinth.

 

And then something yanked her mind from the labyrinth and into a misty void.

 

A presence touched her, imparting an idea that was not her own: _So much hurting…_

 

The presence was ethereal, reminding Rui of grass waving in the moonlight, and it had a touch of familiarity to it.

 

_Do you remember me?_

 

She did. She remembered her time in the hospital, feverish from the poison a Nidoran had given her, and how an airy presence had showed her things from Orre’s past.

 

“Who are you?”

 

 _You shall soon know—or so I hoped._ Mist swirled around her in the void as the presence seemed to mull things over in thought. _There were so many paths before you. Many were hard. Some were terrible. In a few you suffered in ways you could not imagine even now._

 

The mist pulsed, like a sigh. _Yet while this path was a possibility, I did not give it credence. You had done well in avoiding the worst of them so far… humans can be so hard to understand._

 

Flashes of moments throughout history—the Aueriteks making war on other tribes, Unovan settlers clashing with natives, criminal elements slowly poisoning Orre’s cities. Woven amidst all of them was a sense of both fascination and a deep and bitter cynicism. Whatever the presence was, it had seen humans do the worst to each other time and time again.

 

“I’m in trouble,” Rui said. “Help me. _Please._ ”

 

_There would be consequences. Ones you would not enjoy._

What could be worse than waiting for her death in this cave, surrounded by feral things that had once been creatures with lives and loves of their own? “I’m willing to face them.”

 

_No. You are not._

 

And though the presence said no more, Rui knew the discussion was over.

 

“Leave me, then,” she said, curling in on herself. “Whatever you are. A hallucination, probably. My death is forgone.”

 

 _How easily your kind insists that there is one singular path. Forgone, you say? The Aueriteks thought the same of their dominance._ The mists coalesced into more visions, showing an ancient empire—the same she had seen wielding shadow pokemon the last time the presence had touched her mind. But like watching a sped-up video in a documentary, their great cities and temples were suddenly toppled, so fast it almost seemed to have happened in a blink. _They were destroyed by that they did not foresee. It was not external enemies who brought them down, but their own vassals. They were shattered from within._

 

A pause, and then the presence reiterated, with a twinge of emphasis so soft Rui may have only imagined it. _They were shattered from within. By those they thought under their control._ And then the presence faded away, and as the mist vanished like snow in the dawn and Rui’s mind melted into deep slumber, she was left with the distinct impression that something, somewhere, was trying to tell her something.

 

\---

 

It was Reed’s turn to watch over Argyle. The Quagsire had spelled Tama, who had taken his place in the line against the Feral Ones. The vicious pokemon had not moved against them since that initial, brutal fight which had left a few of the Mantine’s fellows dead, and had mortally wounded Argyle.

 

It would be soon. The Noctowl was in bad shape.

 

Would Reed’s death follow after? Would they all fall? It was only a matter of time before the Feral Ones turned restless again. If they pushed harder than before, there would be no chance. All of them would be swept under—Reed himself, his teammates, the Mantine and his pokemon.

 

Rui.

 

The girl was slumped against a rock, sleeping so deeply that when one of the Feral Ones—a vicious-looking Scyther—had keened a raw, screeching cry, she had not stirred at all.

 

Rui Matsuhara. His trainer. She was so flawed, so imperfect. Yet Reed did not hold it against her. None of the shadows did. For she was like them, in a way. Possessing powers unlike others of her kind. Struggling to do the right thing but so very prone to mistakes and errors.

 

No one, person or pokemon, could make the right choice every time. Perhaps the girl would blame herself for their predicament, but Reed didn’t. The shadows could have vetoed her plan, but they’d chosen not to.

 

A sound stirred him out of his reverie. He looked down—Argyle was blinking awake, coughing.

 

Reed knelt to look at his teammate. There was no need to such pointless questions as _how are you_ or _do you need anything_. They both knew the bird pokemon would die soon. Reed simply wanted to give Argyle the stalwart presence of a friend at the end. He would pass with quiet dignity.

 

Argyle wheezed and cringed, before raising his head. “‘S you, huh,” he said. “How’s Rui?”

 

“Sleeping.”

 

Argyle nodded, the gesture small—he couldn’t afford anything else. “Yeah.” He leaned back. “I got this feeling, you know? She’ll get you guys out of here.”

 

Doubtful, but Reed wasn’t going to argue with the dying. Argyle was ever the optimist—outshone by that hyperactive Espeon, perhaps, but optimistic nonetheless.

 

But wait. She’d take _you guys_ out? Not Argyle himself? Perhaps he saw things clearer than Reed gave him credit for.

 

“Hey,” Argyle said, “when you get out, can you give Cap a message? Tell him…” he coughed. “Tell him he’s handsome and—and cute and strong and the perfect pokemon.” He sunk back, and his eyes carried a sorrowful weight to them. “And tell him I regret not saying that to him back when I had the chance.”

 

“I will tell him,” Reed said.

 

“Thanks.” There was a moment of silence, and then another—Reed thought Argyle had slipped back into slumber. But then the Noctowl continued, as if there had been no break. “Learn from this, yeah? Don’t be afraid to make your move. Make it count. Once you get out of it, go for it.”

 

A pang in Reed’s heart. Threatened remembrances. A sudden spike self-loathing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

A dry laugh from Argyle that sent him cringing even more. “C’mon, Reed. You and Luna. I’ve seen you two. She’s the only one you talk to on a regular basis or that you let get close to you. She’s always finding reasons to be with you. You have to see she’s interested, and I _know_ you like her better than the rest of us.”

 

“I…” Reed’s heart was spinning wildly. He was not an idiot. He had picked up on Luna’s signals—and by the spirits, but she enticed him in a way he didn’t know could exist.

 

But. His time back in the laboratory… his transformation into a shadow pokemon… the things he had done…

 

_Arceus strike me down, I don’t deserve to be here._

The memories threatened to overwhelm him, and he trembled where he stood, and Argyle’s brows furrowed… and then realization struck the Noctowl’s face. “You got scars,” he said softly. “About this stuff.”

 

A nod.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

No. No. _No._ He shook his head.

 

Argyle paused before speaking. “Reed, buddy, getting it out… I think it’ll help.” He exhaled, the sound soft and weak. “Your secret will stay secret. I promise. I’ll… heh.” His beak twisted into a sardonic smile. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

 

Reed looked down at his friend—his friend? Was Argyle his friend? With a start, he realized that he was. He’d never thought he’d had a real friend. He didn’t think he deserved them.

 

“It was the lab,” he said. “They—I—”

 

He couldn’t say more. Argyle nodded in sympathy.

 

“For me, it was my old team,” the Noctowl said softly. “They captured all of us. The rest of them were… well, they were wimps, but we were friends anyway. You know? I figured I could teach them how to be tough.” He exhaled. “I was the only one they figured was worth turning into a shadow pokemon. They made me beg for my teammates’ lives—and I did.” He swallowed. “And then they killed them anyway.”

 

Reed laid a paw on Argyle’s shoulder. He’d known that they specialized in breaking pokemon in the lab, and had heard of stories similar to Argyle’s. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. And then, without even consciously deciding to, he spoke, the words flowing from him like water.

 

“They have a program there for getting eggs from captive pokemon. I—I was part of it.” He waited for the disgust, the revulsion, but Argyle merely looked at him with wide eyes, fresh understanding. Reed continued: “There were probably more efficient ways of going about it. Humans have a way if one of their females wants to have a child without a man involved. They could have done that. But the eggs weren’t their true aim. They mostly just wanted us to suffer.”

 

Now that he was saying it, he couldn’t stop until it was all out. “The females understood that I didn’t want it any more than they did. The scientists and their pokemon threatened us to kill us, messily, if we didn’t comply. So all parties just… accepted how it was. That this was what we had to do.” His breath rattled out. “But sometimes I still feel like a monster.”

 

“They didn’t give you a choice,” Argyle said quietly. “They look into your head with ghosts and Psychic-types and pick what’ll hurt you most. None of the others in the program… Reed, I would be surprised if they blamed you in any way.”

 

Reed knew there was truth to Argyle’s words. His head knew that. But his heart said he belonged in perdition. “Luna, I… I don’t _deserve…_ ” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Not her. Not anyone. Not after what I did in there.”

 

“…Reed…”

 

“…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have burdened you with that.”

 

Argyle blinked once, and then twice. “It’s alright. I… kind of wish I had known sooner. Then I could have helped you…”

 

“Sometimes it’s worse than at other times,” Reed admitted. “Like there’s a voice in my telling me to destroy myself.”

 

Argyle’s breath caught. “I have something similar, except it shows up when I’m battling. It tells me to be violent…”

 

Reed nodded. “I know that. I think we all do.”

 

“I call it the beast.” There was a small twinge of fear to Argyle’s voice. “Even when it disappears, it never really goes away. It just recedes inside of me, fading into a… a pearl, endlessly dreaming.” He looked at Reed. “Reed, I wonder if it might actually be something else inside of us. _Not_ us. Do you know? Something that sees through our eyes and tells us to harm others or ourselves.”

 

Reed shifted uncomfortably. He had never really considered it. After being made to do the bad things in the laboratory—and, once the humans had determined him to be sufficiently miserable, after they had abandoned him in that dark room with the white walls—there had been violent impulses and urges he could not name. But he figured it was just his own darkness. They had broken him into pieces, like a glass urn, and like glass, it didn’t matter how nice he had looked at first—one he broke, the pieces were dangerous.

 

But what if Argyle was correct?

 

“I can… feel it coming, Reed,” Argyle said. “It’s been getting weaker, but now that I’m almost gone, it’s stirring inside of me. It… wants to wake up one last time.” He swallowed, and there were tears in his eyes. “I’m really scared, Reed.”

 

“Don’t be,” Reed said. “This is the real you. Not whatever bad things that another forces you to do.”

 

“Thank you,” Argyle said. Then he looked at his friend. “What you just said… do you realize it applies to you, too?” And as he slipped into slumber, he left his friend pondering.

 

Two hours went by, and Argyle passed in his sleep. It was a quiet thing—uneventful in its momentousness. He breathed, and breathed, and then merely didn’t. An unexplainable stillness settled into him that could not be explained by slumber. Reed knew it had been coming, but it still hurt. It still hurt.

 

But there was no time to mourn. Because only a minute or two after Argyle went still…

 

…his eyes snapped open.

 

The Noctowl’s body jerked up, strangely loose and stiff all at once. Argyle—no, it _couldn’t_ have been Argyle—swept the cavern with a wide and searching gaze, seeing everything as if for the first time: pylons, mosses, water, pokemon, the stone itself, all new. And then the eyes fixed on Reed, and held there, and the thing-in-Argyle grinned.

 

Reed stepped back involuntarily.

 

Laughter—coarse, ragged, and mocking—clawed out of the Noctowl’s mouth, followed by a jerking series of words, said as if by someone who had not spoken voluntarily for several years.

 

“You... shall hear... the song.” Argyle-that-was-not leaned forward, eyes studying Reed, and sniffed the air. Reed was idly aware that not once had the thing before him blinked.

 

“Do you know me?” the Noctowl whispered. “Do you know my taste, my touch, my darkness?” The grin returned, and more of the ragged laughter. “I know _you_ ,” it said, curling the word as if a musical note. “There is agony etched in your heart. Fear not. Suffer not. It shall be eaten. All of it... your pain, your fathoms, your planet. Eaten.” It spread Argyle’s wings, like a minister preaching to a congregation, and its voice was a rasp. “ _You shall hear the song_. Rejoice. A harmless song of ruin.” It leaned in, stretching the last word out, like a scream on the wind. “ _Rejoice_.”

 

And then even that parody of life left the Noctowl’s body, and it slumped over, never to move again.

 

Reed’s heart hammered away in his chest. What was that? What _was_ that?

 

As fear raked its icy claws through him, he felt the underpinnings of his shadow self stirring in his heart.

 

His shadow self? No. Now that he looked closer, there was a distinctly foreign sensation to it. The thing sleeping in his soul squirmed, as if the words from that-which-looked-like-Argyle were a chime for it to rise. Reed forced it down, dampened it even through his fear, and the sensation slowly subsided, ebbing into what could only be described as…

 

A pearl, endlessly dreaming.

 

\---

 

When Rui woke from her fitful sleep, Argyle was gone.

 

She wept, her back to the rock. She choked back her sobs, desperate not to draw the attention of the Feral Ones, but there was only so much she could do.

 

Everything had gone wrong.

 

Afterwards, feeling hollow, she curled in on herself. Some of her teammates, as well as the Mantine, had tried to cheer her up, but she had shooed them all away.

 

Denri had tried proposing an escape plan. “I think Striga could do it,” he said, his tail glowing red with excitement. “That field even keeps in ghosts, but maybe we could have them try it on the pylons themselves…”

 

“Go away, Denri.”

 

The Ampharos had tried not to look hurt. “Rui…”

 

“Go away.”

 

And he had.

 

Hunger and thirst gnawed at her. Even if the Feral Ones didn’t get her, Miror B had only a little time to wait before she died and he won. She wondered if he’d already moved against Duking. Against Cap and Luna. Sherles. Duking’s little daughters.

 

“Damn it _all,_ ” she whispered.

 

She had no idea how long she spent trapped in that spiraling trance. But what jerked her out of it was the cacophony raised by the Feral Ones.

 

They were howling, snarling, hurling themselves against the opposite side of the field. She could see shadows spiking off of them, spiraling up and twisting on themselves. Frowning, Rui climbed atop the rock to see over them.

 

Miror B was standing on the far end of the hollow, outside the shimmering shield erected by the pylons. His Ludicolo were with him—only two, though. Vulcana had taken more than just his looks.

 

There was at least a dozen people arrayed behind him, all tough-looking sorts.

 

She understood. The one thing close to a complex emotion remaining in the bestial pokemon was hate—hate for all humans, but especially, she realized, for their tormentor. Miror B. Perhaps he insisted on being present during whatever process stripped them of their last sense of being. Or perhaps some vestige of them knew that he was at the top of the hierarchy. Whatever the reason, his appearance made them into monsters.

 

Miror B gestured his head and one of the men strode up to the field. He pulled out what looked like a remote with two large, clearly visible buttons, one green and one orange.

 

He pushed the green one.

 

Small lights on the pylons began to flicker and all the pokemon—her teammates, the Mantine, the Feral Ones, all of them—howled in sudden agony and sunk down to the earth, barely moving except for small, pained trembles.

 

For her part, Rui barely noticed anything except a barely-detectable, high-pitched whine.

 

Sonic emitters… So this is how Miror B kept them in line.

 

When the pokemon were incapacitated, the man hit the orange button. The shields fell—the pokemon had their opportunity—

 

But no. None of them moved. None of them _could_ move. The emitters did their job. The man strode across the cavern, weaving in and out of bestial pokemon as if they were no more threatening than a scraggy weed, and she realized that they had probably done this hundreds of times.

 

The man reached her and strongarmed her back towards Miror B. She barely even had the energy to resist. As they meandered through the scattered, incapacitated pokemon, she reflected on how thoroughly even these feral pokemon were under their control.

 

…their control…

 

After they walked beyond the far set of pylons, the man stepped away from Rui and pulled out the remote again. The orange button re-summoned the shields, and afterwards, the green one shut off the emitters. The mass of pokemon slowly staggered to their feet.

 

“Come on,” he growled, grabbing her by the arm. “The boss is _done_ waiting for you.”

 

When he tugged her, she stumbled and sagged against him with a grunt. “Sorry,” she panted. “I’m… really thirsty, and tired…”

 

Snarling, the man hoisted her up and yanked her along before throwing her to her knees a few paces in front of Miror B.

 

She looked up at him. He wore the same outfit as the night Vulcana had died—a jacket that bared his chest coupled with a stylish scarf. His entire torso was a searing, angry red, looking even more painful than his facial scarring, and Rui couldn’t help but feel mildly impressed that her foe had not only survived such an attack, but had resumed his operations within a week of being hurt.

 

Miror B looked down at her with a smirk, then lifted his mirrored shades from his face. “Now stella, you _is_ tenacious, and that the truth,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking.

 

“What do you want with me,” Rui said, her voice gravelly from exhaustion.

 

Miror B clucked his tongue. “That Duking, he be the opposite of a cool cat. He _uncool_. How much music gotta play afore you accept the new beats? New rhythms?” He shook his head, his afro bouncing side to side. “Total bogus. Girl, I make you a deal. I put you front of a vidscreen and you tell him to dance to the new beat. He listen to you, dig?”

 

“And what, you won’t kill me?”

 

His smile stretched the scarring on his face. “Nah, girl, that ship done sailed a while back. But I take your crew outta that pit, and won’t turn ‘em into crazy machines. They can go live wit’ Duking and his chicks and those two pokemon you left back. I leave them all be so long as they and Duking behave theyself.” He leaned forward, still smiling. “You care about them, don’t you, cool cat? You want them pokemon to be safe. Now you get what you want.”

 

“What I want?” Rui chuckled, the sound rolling out of her. She looked up at him with fire. “What I want right now, more than anything, is to see you dead.”

 

He laughed mirthlessly. “You ain’t never gon’ see that, honey.”

 

She stood up, slowly, despite her aches and pains. When she was standing tall, Miror B smirking at her even as his men tried to scowl her into submission, she breathed in, once, and said:

 

“I disagree.”

 

The she pulled out the remote she’d swiped when she’d staggered against the goon, and pressed the orange button.

 

The shields keeping the Feral Ones at bay—the wild, slavering, bloodthirsty, animalistic creatures filled with nothing but hate towards their captor—faded away. Sheer panic slashed through the assembled humans, and it stopped them from making the one move that might have saved them. Rui threw the remote to the ground and then lifted her foot—still clad in a heavy boot; they had left Rui her boots, her duster, her shirt, had only taken the Snag Maachine—and smashed it into pieces, destroying the only hope of using the sonic emitters.

 

Miror B’s mouth opened to bark out a desperate command, but whatever it was, the sound was drowned out by the sudden roar of the Feral Ones.

 

Rui didn’t have to turn to know they were stampeding this way.

 

Some of the goons released their pokemon and pulled out firearms. Many more turned and fled. Miror B backed away several paces, screaming commands at his Ludicolo, fear—genuine, _bona fide_ fear—playing on his face. It was the first time Rui had ever seen it there.

 

She knelt and closed her eyes, waiting for her end. They hated Miror B, but they hated all humans. She was a human. She was between them and him.

 

At least she finally brought him down.

 

But then a comforting touch rested on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Striga hovering there there. “Keep back!” they yelled, using dizzying lights to turn back the Feral Ones running straight for Rui. “No further!”

 

One of the Feral Ones staggered but did not stop. Tama’s fist brought it down. The Makuhita stood stalwartly alongside Rui, his fists raised. “I am not a weapon,” he said. “Today, I am a _shield._ ”

 

Water washed more of the Feral Ones away, and lightning paralyzed another that was heading towards Rui. Reed and Denri fell in.

 

A shadow swooped overhead—a fifth pokemon, the Mantine, joined the circle.

 

And the Feral Ones, seeing five pokemon arrayed against them, left the red-haired human alone to focus on easier prey.

 

They swarmed the Ludicolo, tearing into them with savage violence. The Ludicolo managed to beat a few of them away, even killing one, but they were no match for sheer numbers. One goon, armed with a gun, brought down eight Feral Ones with eight bullets. As he was fumbling for another clip, a screeching Pidgeotto swooped out of the sky and smashed him earthward, talons first.

 

The carnage was unbelievable. The men and their pokemon wilted like leaves in a drought.

 

When the Feral Ones came for Miror B, his Ludicolo were already dead. He screamed, swinging his fists at them, as they swarmed him and pulled him down to the cavern floor. He fell to his own pet monstrosities, the things he kept caged in his basement, his experiments, his amusements. Had he ever thought his sonic emitters and cage, so well-designed, so elegant, would fail him? That his vanquished enemy, completely at his mercy, would destroy him with his own creations?

 

_They were shattered from within. By those they thought under their control._

 

A huge mob of Feral Ones, dozens strong, chased the fleeing goons up the stairs into the higher parts of the cave, and terrified screams echoed down. There were the sounds of pokemon fighting, of surprised and frightened yelling, of gunshots.

 

Those Feral Ones left behind, driven into even further bloodlust, threw themselves at each other with no more humans to kill, savaging with teeth and claws.

 

Before long, there were none left.

 

As the mayhem continued in the upper levels, the circle of pokemon around Rui relaxed. She stepped out, shaking, still in disbelief that she was alive. There was a monitor on the wall—probably used by scientists monitoring the Feral Ones.

 

“I have to call Duking and Sherles,” she said, limping over to it. “They need to know that a mob of vicious pokemon have just been unleashed… and that Miror B is gone.”

 

Reaching the monitor, she turned briefly to look at the scene. Other than herself, her team, and the Mantine and his crew, it was devastation. It looked like nothing less than a battlefield.

 

Her eyes lingered on what was left of Miror B.

 

Striga drifted close, looking back and forth between the scene and her face. “Rui?” they asked. “Are you… okay?”

 

Surprising herself, she nodded—slowly. “Yeah. I am.” She turned and busied herself with the monitor. “I’m just… thinking.”

 

“What about?”

 

She managed to contact Duking, told him what to expect, told him to mobilize Sherles and the rest of the police. Then, exhausted, she slumped against the wall after he promised a rescue.

 

“I’m thinking about something somebody once told me,” she said. “You ever hear the phrase, ‘What goes around, comes around’?”

 

Striga nodded. “Mhmmm.”

 

“Well, he told me…” She sighed, looking at the remnants of the remote laying crushed near the still-warm body of the man who had, just this morning, controlled more or less all crime in western Orre. Then she raised her head, taking in the waterfalls, the crystals, the luminous moss growing on the walls.

 

Despite everything, the cave _was_ lovely, in its own way.

 

“He told me,” she said with weary satisfaction, “that sometimes, you _are_ what comes around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.
> 
> This update covers a lot of ground in-game, so bear with me.
> 
> For those of you not in the know, basically the entire half of Pyrite Town is just two gigantic dungeons back to back. You've got Miror B's hideout, which is connected to the Pyrite Cave, where Miror B himself waits. There's literally nothing but endless fights and hordes of shadow pokemon. This is probably the longest sequence in the game, and also one of the hardest, considering that you are barred from leveling up any pokemon that aren't Espeon or Umbreon until a fair further into the game. And they drop this on you in the second town.
> 
> The Mantine is indeed a catch--his name is Manny. The others were all also caught and named, but I'll put their info in a future update.
> 
> For Argyle's death, he was killed by a critical Shadow Rush from one of the shadows in Miror B's hideout (I think the Meditite). It sucked because I even had Reflect up, so I figured he was good, but crits be crits--they don't care about your defense raises.
> 
> The Miror B fight itself was incredibly easy. I used Luna to tank (and spammed toxic to help whittle down the HP of his Ludicolo squad) and cycled between Cap, Manny, and Tama as my main damage dealers. Denri was brought into paralyze the Sudowoodo, which I caught in my second Great Ball.
> 
> We have one more chapter to go before I end the first arc--mostly denouement and stuff. But Miror B is finally down and done, and we can leave Pyrite Town soon. Are you ready for a change in scenery?


	24. Chapter 22

So Miror B is gone.

 

I admit—I, too, was fearful when I heard the news. He was not the highest among us, but Miror B seemed nonetheless indispensable. His money and his men were the engine of our vast machine, and without them, we are devoid of a great resource.

 

But the gears are already turning. The machine may have needed him to keep running at first, but now we self-sustain. Our organization is too powerful and proud to be laid low by this. Let Miror B fall, let the Brotherhood be consumed by their own—what does it matter? The eleventh hour is drawing nearer.

 

…one other thing.

 

The pokemon which turned on Miror B—these so-called “Feral Ones”—were of his own making. To what purpose was he gathering and producing them? And why keep their knowledge from the High Council? I suspect he meant to turn them on us and supplant.

 

I suspect that one of my subordinated was working behind my back—and I shall arrange a suitable punishment. Treason shall not be tolerated.

 

The work on the Feral Ones was crude and uninspired, yet perhaps there is something to salvage. We have more than enough pokemon, and more than enough men. The days of Miror B and the Brotherhood are behind us.

 

I suggest that we take those men still under our command and train them more efficiently. Miror B’s rabble didn’t save him. Quality, not quantity, should be our goal moving forward.

 

With our heads high, and our hearts steeled, I have confidence that soon all of Orre—no, the world—shall know the Cipher.

 

—Shadow Pokemon Lab

Chief Ein

 

\---

 

When Luna blinked awake, she realized she was curled up against Reed.

 

The Umbreon yawned and stretched her legs, relishing in the taut feeling, before nuzzling closer. The rise and fall of Reed’s breaths were a comforting heartbeat to her.

 

“You’re up.” Reed’s voice was low and flat, as always, but since coming back from that cavern, there had been a new, unstated attempt at openness to it. It was like a child’s fumbling first attempts to walk—awkward, but endearing in the promise of more.

 

“Mhmmm,” she said, and nuzzled closer. How distraught she’d been when she and Cap had woken to discover Rui and the whole rest of the team missing—and how their worry had slowly metamorphosed into cold despair when they heard nothing from them after one day, and then another.

 

It was a hard thing to admit, but she had been ready to give up.

 

But just two days ago, the unthinkable had happened—Rui had emerged, shaken and bruised but alive, while Miror B and many of his men had been destroyed. And the rest of the team had also made it out.

 

Most of them, that was.

 

Argyle’s death had hit her hard, but it struck Cap even harder, especially when Reed had conveyed the Flying-type’s last regards to him. The poor little fellow had cried, burying his hand in his paw, wondering: “Why didn’t he just… tell me? We could’ve… I…”

 

Only Argyle knew, now. But Luna wondered if the scenario didn’t have at least a little bit to do with why Reed had allowed himself to open, even marginally, up to her.

 

As Luna nuzzled against him again, a low purr rumbling out of her, she felt him tense at the touch. She drew away. “Are you okay?” she asked.

 

The Quagsire blinked, exhaled once. “Luna, I… have a few things I need to share with you.” He swallowed. “Not now. Not… for a while. But eventually.”

 

She nodded in understanding. “Take the time you need, Reed.” Then she paused. “Did I ever tell you about mine and Cap’s childhood on the streets? With our old trainer, Wes?”

 

“Not in any detail.”

 

“Parts of it were hard. Really hard.” She exhaled, memory threatening to cascade her. She beat it back. “I could… tell you about it sometime. If you want to.”

 

He looked down at her, a small glow of concern on his face. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me, or that this is a tit-for-tat.”

 

“I know.” Luna finally yawned further and then stood up. She looked at him—the quiet, stalwart Quagsire that she was, against all odds, falling head-over-heels for. “I want to tell you because I trust in you.”

 

A breath of a moment passed while Reed processed the information, and then something that hardly ever occurred happened—he smiled. “I appreciate that.”

 

Beaming, Luna turned and trotted out the door, past the cushiony bed where her brother was sprawled, all limbs in every which direction as he loudly snored.

 

Rays of sunshine beamed through the windows, and she stared up at them. Despite the shadows around her… she could feel light.

 

\---

 

Even after two days in the hospital, the incessant _beep_ ing of the machine next to her threatened to drive Rui crazy. Still, it was better than what she had come from.

 

When she had first woken up, alone in a hospital room, she’d been half-crazed, terrified that Miror B had lived through the wrath of the Feral Ones, that he would come to exact revenge. It had taken Duking intervening and convincing the skeptical doctors to allow a pokemon companion with her for safety to finally quiet her down.

 

Of course, she was more lucid than before, but their comfort still helped.

 

The first day’s companion had been Striga, who had hovered on her shoulder, close and comforting. Then Cap had replaced the little ghost, dozing on her lap and regaling her with impish stories.

 

Today’s companion was her newest one—Manny, as the Mantine had asked to be called. Apparently it was an appellation he remembered from his previous trainer. Most of the shadows rescued from the pit had been given to Duking to care for, but the quiet strength of the Mantine had impressed her, and Rui had taken Manny onto her team.

 

Perhaps he could fill the void that Argyle had left behind.

 

Her newest teammate nodded at her. “Are you well, little human?”

 

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “As well as I could be.” She glared down at the IV in her arm. “It was just dehydration and fatigue. You’d think I’d be good to go by now.”

 

“I do not claim to understand the minds of human doctors,” Manny said in a dry tone that clearly indicated that the doctors were, in fact, total morons. Rui giggled.

 

As she lay back, reflecting, her giddiness faded. The pit…

 

None of the Feral Ones had survived. They had turned on each other, or slowly been worn down one by one through Miror B’s forces, and the few remaining had to be euthanized by Sherles. There was truly no saving them.

 

Duking and the others had delicately avoided talking about how the Feral Ones had been freed, or who was responsible for the events that had unfolded.

 

Rui was, of course. And despite how it had all turned out… she would have done it again, given the opportunity.

 

Just a few weeks ago such a thought would have scared her. But now…

 

_Now,_ she mused, _I have darkness of my own._

 

Miror B’s empire was not just that cave, of course. It was not even just Pyrite. But as had occurred with the Brotherhood, smiting the serpent’s head had done a great blow, fragmenting the organization. Sherles’s men had already made good time in the cleanup.

 

Rui leaned back, stewing in it all. The struggle that had consumed her life for the past several weeks—so short, in the grand scheme of things, yet so colossally massive when you looked at the import—was finished.

 

What would she do now? Where would she go from here?

 

She was still reflecting when the door opened. She tensed—Manny’s wingtips flashed with sudden readiness—but it was only two small girls.

 

Duking’s daughters dogpiled into the room, laughing, and Rui giggled. Their father followed soon after, watching the girls fawn over the young woman who had become their playmate the last few weeks. Would they ever know that they had been the catalysts to all this? That it had been a threat to them that had sent Rui marching off to crash her fury upon Miror B once and for all?

 

_No,_ she thought. _I can’t tell them. Not ever._

 

Once the girls were finished, their father had waved them out, insisting there were ‘grown-up’ matters to discuss. They had pouted until he reminded them that Cap was waiting to play.

 

When they were gone, Duking leaned against a wall, his massive, muscley arms crossed. Rui sat, her left hand resting atop her right, in perfect calm.

 

“So,” he began.

 

“So,” she replied.

 

He sighed. “Arceus above, but you did it. A dozen years—more, even—that snake had held a chokehold on this part of Orre, and you brought him down.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Congratulations.”

 

She nodded. She didn’t feel worth congratulating. Despite her recovery, she just felt… tired.

 

Duking seemed to read the room. His celebratory air faded away. “Now that Miror B’s gone,” he said, “we ought to look into getting you a proper place to stay here in town.”

 

“No need. I’ve thought it over and I’m leaving once they let me out.”

 

Duking sighed as though he had expected this. “Agate, I presume?”

 

“Mhmm. I’ll be staying with my grandparents.” That was, if her grandfather didn’t run her out of town for being months late.

 

Duking nodded. “The same money came outta there to pay for this stay as paid for it before.” He paused. “Your grandfather wouldn’t happen to be… Eagun, would he?”

 

Her nose wrinkled—and she didn’t try to play it off as the cloying, over-sanitized bite of the hospital room. “Eagun Somerset, yes. The mayor of Agate Village.”

 

Duking whistled. “He’s more than that. Up until a decade or two ago, if anyone knew Orre, it would be for that man. Johto, Unova, Alola…” He counted each item on his fingers. “He, an untested, barely-trained novice from a podunk region, went to a half-dozen nations and schooled them all, Champions and kahunas alike. He was, for his era, indisputably the greatest trainer _in the world_. No wonder you’re such a hellion in battle!”

 

She sighed. Even in notoriously insular Kanto, Eagun’s name was known—especially among people above her generation. Very few had discovered her connection to him.

 

He’d never visited them in Kanto, and she’d never visited Orre. Somehow, the thought of encountering him scared her almost as much as Miror B had.

 

Almost.

 

“But Rui,” Duking said, growing more serious, “what are your plans?”

 

“Plans?”

 

“Regarding…” He trailed off, eying Manny.

 

“The shadow pokemon.” She leaned back, thinking. “I’ll take my team with me, but the others… Could you…”

 

“Mhmm,” he said. “The girls would be heartbroken if we sent them away.”

 

“Thanks,” she said. “Now that Miror B is out of the picture, my main goal is on _saving_ them. They shouldn’t be shadows forever. If I figure out a way, I’ll let you know.”

 

“Good to hear.” He moved closer to the bed, picking a chair to sit on. “And the Snag Machine…”

 

“Stays with me,” Rui said in a tone that brooked no discussion.

 

Duking blinked. “Respectfully, I don’t know if that’s your call to make.”

 

She bristled at that. “And whose would it be? It’s not your property, or Sherles’s. Remnants of Miror B’s gangs will still be around, including in Sherles’s own department, so I don’t know if I can trust it to stay under lock and key _anywhere_ in Pyrite. Besides,” she said archly, “you yourself mentioned that Agate remains under the eye of Orre’s greatest trainer. Where could it possibly be any safer?”

 

For a moment, Duking looked ready to argue the point, but then he shook his head in concession. “Fair enough. Pyrite owes you too much to force your hand… I hope you make our trust worth it.”

 

“I will.”

 

Not long after, as Duking rose to take his leave, Rui called out one thing after him.

 

“Is it really getting better out there?”

 

He frowned in thought. “I’m not going to say that the loss of Miror B has fixed all of Pyrite’s problems. There will always be crime and vice here. But… Things are better than they’ve been in a long, long time, Rui. People—my girls—they can walk their own streets again, and not feel fear. You did a good thing.”

 

She leaned back sleepily. “I know,” she said softly.

 

\---

 

Ein moved deep underneath his laboratory, through the ruins.

 

Even after so many years here—even after walking these halls a dozen, a hundred, a _thousand_ times, the hint of violence that still permeated the air of the Aueritek passages made his skin crawl.

 

But he banished it easily enough.

 

The path to the White Room was familiar, one he had trod frequently by now. How many pokemon had he dragged to that room? How many had emerged as shadows?

 

He’d had far fewer causes to throw humans in there. After all, they didn’t become shadows—they merely perished.

 

Small wonder that Lovrina had begged, shaking and screaming with fear, when he’d ordered her interred there. The moment he found out Miror B was dead—that his apprentice’s insurance against him was no more—he’d moved to eliminate her. He hadn’t named the turncoat in the report, but he’d find a way to dress up her transgressions to that the High Council would swallow her elimination.

 

Lovrina had cursed, spat, pleaded, and trembled with pure, unfiltered terror as the door had shut on her. He thought of how she had spent her last moments in darkness, and smiled.

 

The door, unassuming in its small size and modest adornments, stood before him. He would come back later with men to take her corpse out—for now, though, he wanted to see her body alone, to gloat over how she had paid the price for backstabbing and defiance.

 

With a smile, he opened the door.

 

The interior of the room was shrouded in shadow, the dim light from outside playing on the pale carvings on the wall. There was indeed a limp form within the room.

 

He chuckled, and the form moved.

 

Lovrina stood up, all jerky and stringy, and when she turned to look at him, he took an involuntary step back. Her normally green eyes had shifted into a vibrant shade of orange-red that almost seemed to shine in the dark. Black tendrils wound up her formerly bare arms, like tattoos, and her pinkish hair, normally done in two twintails, cascaded in a wild spray down to her lower back.

 

“Ein,” she said, stretching the word out like a lover. “I should thank you. I finally… woke up…”

 

She walked towards him and he took an involuntary step back. Why hadn’t he brought any poke balls? Why had he come _alone?_

 

The scientist tried to work his mouth, but no sound came out.

 

“I was so _scared,”_ she continued, “but then I… heard the song.” She shivered as if in ecstasy. “Such a wonderful song… it promised things.”

 

She was mad. This whole thing was mad. He had to run. He had to escape!

 

As control of his legs finally seemed to return to Ein, Lovrina spread her arms, and a wave of pure exhaustion spread over his body.  She stepped forward, giggling, and the exhaustion spread. Every breath felt ragged, like he was taking in hot iron. Every heartbeat labored. His skin felt like there were a thousand needles on it.

 

He was… dying.

 

“Do you like it?” Lovrina squatted, looking down at him with her glowing eyes. The young woman had a wild, predatory look on her face. “It gave this to me. A present. It wants to thank you, Ein.”

 

The exhaustion spread; his vision began greying out. He couldn’t even struggle up the energy to resist.

 

“I’d also like to thank you,” she said softly, “for giving this to me. I wouldn’t have this if not for you.” Now that she was close he could see that the black tendrils were tainted veins; the pulsed, lightly, the rhythm too uneven and languorous to be any heartbeat. “When I was in there, my new master began dreaming me to death, but then… we struck a bargain.” She reached out one finger, bringing it close to his face. “There’s something in me now. It’s only a fragment, Ein, but this fragment would love to rouse the others… they are scattered to the winds, like precious gems. Like pearls.”

 

She brushed his finger along his face, exerting more of her new power on him, and when she pulled it off, he was dead.

 

She’d killed him just by _willing_ it.

 

“Can you hear it now, Ein?” she whispered, and the awareness within her crooned. “The song that all Orre shall soon sing?”

 

Lovrina stood, and dusted herself off. How petty and worthless her old dreams, her old ideals, had seemed now that she had awoken—that _they_ were moving as one. How marvelous it was that she could guide things the way they were meant to be.

 

\---

 

hey all!

 

i’m so sad to say that old Ein has passed away u_u for whatever reason, he decided to go into the white room :0 and he was the one who was always saying how scary it was!

 

thankfully he’s left his notes behind so I can continue where he left off! i really want to push forward with the feral ones ;3 i know that i don’t have the expertise as him (sorrrrrrryyyyyy ;;~;; ) but i came to a new conclusion that will help us make better shadows than ever \o/

 

i know that i’m not guaranteed my boss’s spot on the high council but i look forward to working with you all stilllllllllll

 

we have so very much to do (:

 

and i couldn’t be happier (:

 

—shadow pokemon lab

chief lovrina

 

**END OF ARC 1: FOOL’S GOLD**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we close the first arc of The Dark We Carry. This run is about 1/4 of the way through. Strangely enough, it feels like we're just getting started!
> 
> As a reminder, my current team is: Cap (Espeon), Luna (Umbreon), Tama (Makuhita), Striga (Misdreavus), Denri (Ampharos), Reed (Quagsire), and Manny (Mantine)
> 
> If you're not familiar with the Orre games, note that Lovrina is not an original character! She appears in Pokemon XD as Ein's replacement, more or less. She's the one who makes Shadow Lugia.


	25. Chapter 23

**ARC 2: THE BURDEN OF TIME**

 

Listen, child, and hear the song of the Orre region. It is an old song—old and yet not old at all. Its tones shall ring familiar in your ears, and its steps and missteps shall seem self-perpetuating. Orre, like many things sculpted by mortal hands, is little more than a circle: flat, without beginning or end, and treading the same ground over and over and over and over again. And the creatures within, small-minded and small-sighted as they be, see the horizon and plod towards it, ignorant that they have been there before, and shall be again.

 

There are many beginnings in a circle. The one we shall choose today comes not long after the Cataclysm. You know of which I speak, child. The dreadful day when the skies above Orre—lush, verdant Orre, green with music and promise—burned. The dreadful day when the earth shattered and splintered as if under a great weight. Ah, the destruction, the chaos. The lamentations of the wild pokemon and the pastoral shepherds who wandered the region with them.

 

The Cataclysm came in days that were, by the standards of mankind, ancient; when the greatest human creation was mortar to stick two bricks together, and when a collection of a few thousand individuals with pointy sticks could dominate a whole landscape. What recourse had these jumped-up apes against a desolation that upended all they knew, that filled the sky and the earth and their hearts with fearful fire?

 

They had none, of course, and when the worse happened still—when plants withered and died no matter how delicately they were nurtured, when wild pokemon grew sickly and violent, turning on each other and eating their own—they had nothing except worthless prayers whispered to far-off gods, begging for salvation. And as they clutched their hands together and uttered pleas of supplication, their world died around them.

 

See Orre, now. See it as you know it. A world of sand and heat, a world where wild pokemon cannot subsist. Humans, too, died in the years after the cataclysm, though they did not fall so unilaterally as pokemon. They wander the wastes, their hearts filled with darkness and despair, fragmented into tribes that eke out a meager living in the desolate sand.

 

How long do they live like this? A hundred years; two hundred; a thousand; maybe more. It is long enough that the grandchildren of grandchildren of grandchildren of those who once knew green have long since passed. That even the most marvelous tales of lush, fertile valleys and the rich bounties of nature are dismissed as even less than fairy tales. Sometimes young men and women take their leave, striking out to probe the great outside, the lands beyond dirt and sun. Sometimes, child, sometimes they even return, bringing husbands or wives, carrying children on their hips to help the tribes stay strong. Sometimes, too, they are followed by strange creatures that speak lightning or dream fire, and slowly the tribesmen come to hold to these creatures, what few they find.

 

Our story begins with one of these tribes. It was a grey morning, cool under the desert light, a morning like any other, when an old woman woke screaming, and the Aueriteks became the Aueriteks.

 

She was a withered old thing, with wrinkled skin that sagged off her bones and a hoarse and ragged voice that never failed to make you shiver when you heard it cackling. She was known to speak with the creatures, to see their souls, and sometimes saw rare but vivid visions that led her tribe to greatness.

 

This particular vision was to be her last. She tossed and she turned, frothing, screaming incoherently about dreaming pearls and ruinous songs—and with a warning to never tread into the great deep, she passed into darkness.

 

Her grandson, a young warrior with a stalwart cat which would today be called a Persian, wondered at her words, and continued turning them in his head when he chanced across a vast crevasse in the desert. Piqued by curiosity and filled with youthful disdain of the warnings of the old, he passed down into the low places.

 

What did he find there? I dare not name it. I dare not even hint, child, so do not ask. But it filled him with awe even as it broke his mind and snapped his soul, it showered him and shattered him with wonder and delight, and he found himself exulting in the glory even as it leeched his spirit into nothingness. His body hit the cavern floor in darkness, smiling beatifically.

 

His Persian was touched by the darkness as well; it warped into a violent thing, something that stalked the night and lashed out. The other descendants of the prophetess—those who too could see the cloak of light that surrounds all living things—warned that it should be destroyed, spoke of how its light had become darkness, but they were ignored. The Persian led the tribe back to the great crevasse.

 

The days they spent in the gloom decided their fate, and the fates of so many others. The tribe discovered that humans who passed too deep in the darkness had their light devoured and were left as less even than husks, but _pokemon_ emerged as vicious, fighting, killing machines. A schism emerged between the cautious, peaceable members of the tribe and the more warlike faction. Which side won when the schism came to blows? I think you know. You understand humanity too well to guess there could be any other outcome.

 

See, now, the transformation in them. See how the few pokemon they had—workers and guardians and pets—are given to the darkness, all to be made weapons. See how they cast aside the roles of scholar, of storyteller, how all youth are to be trained in the way of the spear and the lash and the marching drum. See how they chart the warrens, how imperfect realization of what dwells within creeps on them like the plague, fills them with wondrous despair. See how they cast aside their old gods to worship the thing in the deep. See how they rename themselves _Aueritek_ —in their tongue, _children of ruin._

 

Aueritek—Aueri—Orre. Their legacy is with us still. The name of the region is “ruin.”

 

Gone, long gone, is the Orre of ages past—the green and verdant pastoral days of peace and co-existence. Gone, too, is the second era, the orange epoch of wanderlust and of eking out a harsh but ultimately rewarding existence. Now we are in a new age, a _red_ age, an age that shall be dominated by the scarlet of fire and the crimson of spilled blood.

 

How can the other tribes stand against the Aueriteks? How can they hold off against an ocean of fanatics with spears and clubs, let alone the corrupted monstrosities that fight beside them? How can they endure such an onslaught, when they struggle even to feed their own in this barren land?

 

Within a generation, all but a handful of scattered tribes have been brought to heel. Within two, there is no resistance left. And within three, the word _empire_ has been coined in a tongue that once had no concept of it. And within just a few more, the sands echo with the clatter of ringing chains and the rocks are redolent with the reek of human blood. There are no tribes anymore, no pokemon—only human vassals to toil, and poor wretched creatures to be made into corrupted, feral beasts.

 

And the thing that dwelt in darkness was pleased.

 

It toiled in its slumber, rolled over and over again in its cage, and amidst its dreams it composed an alluring song for its would-be children, a song that spoke of other lands, other peoples, to be brought to heel, and of other gods to be cast down to the earth. And the Aueriteks readied their armies, lashed their vassals, prepared more shadows in the great subterranean temple they had built to their imprisoned deity, and readied themselves. All the world shall hear the song, they said, and it shall be a harmless song of ruin.

 

But then, like an arrow of light, came new gods from the east.

 

Three there were, and in their native land they had been given titles of respect—Suicune, _one who walks the sky;_ Entei, _one who roars the flames;_ and Raikou, _one who calls the storm._ Lesser deities they were, two brothers and a sister, servants of the rainbow; not unkillable, not invincible, but titanic nonetheless. They came from the land where the sun begins and stood against the tide of darkness.

 

How titanic the battles were. Icy winds raked the badlands like claws, and the aurora danced in the desert sky for the first and only time; long-dormant mountains roused to life, angrily birthing rivers of fire and magma that turned back whole armies; thunderstorms ravaged croplands, and lightning bolts set siege engines ablaze.

 

The acolytes who called themselves the Aueriteks were no strangers to destruction, but for the first time in centuries, they saw ruin and tasted not elation but fear.

 

But three demigods cannot stand alone against an empire, and despite the devastation they wrought, they were forced to yield against the Aueriteks. From where could they find an ally?

 

…from where indeed? In the far reaches of the empire, children began speaking of vivid dreams. They were taken, they said, to eons far gone. They saw happy shepherds with the faces of their uncles and grandfathers tending the arcadian wilds; they saw harsh but noble tribesman managing to subsist in a dying land; and, they said, they were shown a future glittering with buildings that stabbed the sky. They were shown the way life was and the way it might yet be if not for the Aueriteks, and their whispers were like a spark to a dry field.

 

For the first time in living memory the vassals had more than just dreary resignation. They had _hope_ , and the children, citing whisperings from a strange pixie which would not show itself to adults, led their people to hidden grottos and shadowed canyons filled with _water and green._

 

Sprite-like laughter filled their hearts like moonlight, and men and women reported being taken in their dreams to visit ancestors; great warchiefs who taught them the ways of old.

 

Imagine, child, the faces of the Aueriteks when they discovered that their greatest adversaries were not the deities from a far-off land, but their own subjects, those they had long since dismissed as beaten dogs. See the shock on their face warp to fear and then, finally, defiance. The vassals swept their cities and toppled their temples, aided by ice and magma and lightning, but it came at a cost—the feral pokemon, those with corrupted auras, were unleashed, causing untold devastation. But in the end, when the last high priest of the Aueriteks was brought to ruin, a rainbow blazed overhead.

 

But you know, child, how things went from there. How happy endings rarely remain happy. The vassals fractured again, and though pockets of green had sprouted up, Orre remained largely desolate. The three demigods vanished into the wind as fast as they arrived. Centuries passed and new arrivals came from far away, with wars of their own, and by the time they were finished, the new arrivals and the remnants of the vassals had mixed together, forming a new culture that was neither vassal nor newcomer, blending their languages and ideals into a new identity, and squabbling amongst themselves as the world turned and turned again. And so Orre has limped on.

 

But circles are circles, and though some things may come and go and come once more, the center of the circle remains unchanged, unyielding. There is still a darkness in this region. There is still something slumbering in the deep. And child?

 

It’s growing restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arc 2 begins to an unorthodox start. No "plot" this time around so much as it is an extended worldbuilding session. But who is talking to whom? And why?


	26. Chapter 24

**I STILL RECALL THE GOLDEN DAYS AS IF WITHIN A FAR-OFF DREAM. THE DAYS WHEN THE AUERITEKS TASTED MY RIGHTEOUS FURY. HOW DISTANT THEY NOW SEEM.**

**I STILL HEAR THE CRIES OF THE HUMANS WHO WORSHIPPED ME, THEIR SAVIOR. HUMANS… SO FRAIL, SO SHORT-LIVED, SO NEEDING OF SOMETHING GREATER THAN THEMSELVES.**

**_GODDESS,_ ** **THEY CALL ME, AND THEY ARE NOT WRONG. BUT EVEN AS THEY KOWTOW TO MY MARVELS, I WONDER… DO ANY OF THEM REALIZE JUST HOW WEARY, HOW _EMPTY,_ THEIR GODDESS TRULY IS?**

**\---**

 

Not once, in _either_ of their lives, had Striga seen so much green. They floated, open-mouthed, taking it all in.

 

This wasn’t their Orre… was it? Their Orre was dusty and orange, a place of hardy subsistence and conflict repeating across ages. That there could be such green, such vibrance…

 

They drifted over to a small flower, a little ball of white clover poking out of the grass, and poked their head into it. The pollen on the little white flower tickled their nose and made them sneeze.

 

They blinked and then, overcome with euphoria, they carted through the air, giggling.

 

Around them, Agate Village plodded along. The sight of a giddy ghost would have been something unusual for most of Orre, but Agate, a town of seniors and retired elites, had seen a bit more than the usual burgh. The old women watering their gardens and the old men strolling along under the sun, making good pace, smiled at the sight of the happy pokemon. They had seen far curiouser in their day, and some of their pokemon—Beautifly and Hoothoot—followed after, riding the wind and laughing too.

 

Striga perched down on a wooden post, allowing themself to become corporeal enough to rest there. It was all just so _lovely!_ It was unlike the canyons and dunes they had traversed as a human, and unlike the grimy cities they had skulked in as a shadow pokemon—and yet Agate was, unmistakably, Orre.

 

“It’s not so bad,” Striga said, and though they still felt the shackles in their heart—echoes of their time in the lab, a scar that would never go away—they beamed under the sun.

 

A shadow drifted alongside them, and they looked up. It was their team’s newest member: the Mantine, creatively named ‘Manny.’ ( _Be nice,_ Striga told themself. _It’s a holdover from their pre-shadow days. The trainer they were taken from called them that._ ) Of all the pokemon they had rescued from the pit—a Meditite and a Swablu and a Remoraid and a Sudowoodo and a Plusle and a small handful of others—this was the only one who had joined up with them, the rest staying with Duking back in Pyrite.

 

“Hullo,” Striga said, smiling. The Mantine flapped his wings—wings? Sure they were. Striga didn’t know what else to call them—staying aloft near effortlessly and glanced down at them.

 

“Hello,” he said back.

 

None of them knew the Mantine that well; he was quite reserved. Maybe not so much so as Reed, but he still kept to himself.

 

The newcomer was frowning at Striga, as if confused. “What are you doing?”

 

They drifted up from the fence post, tumbling over themself in the air. “Having fun!” they said. “It’s weird to feel the sun and not have it be _searing._ Enjoying such a pretty day!”

 

Manny shook his head. “If you say so.”

 

“Hey…”

 

Striga drifted closer, looking at Manny with worry. The larger pokemon sighed but didn’t shy away from the Misdreavus. “Yeah?”

 

“I know…” Striga trailed off, thinking. How best to say this? “I know,” they said, “you probably had it bad down there—and before, too. All of us did. We’re all shadows, ‘cept for Luna and her brother, and even those two have been through some hard stuff. But,” they continued, “that means we can help each other out. Yeah? We understand.”

 

Manny flapped his wings in silence.

 

“You don’t gotta open up right now,” Striga said. “Or ever. But we know. And trust me, that actually helps a lot. Being around Rui, around Cap and Luna, even just being around humans who respect you and pokemon who aren’t afraid of you, it… reminds you of who you are. Just a being with desires that deserves to be happy.”

 

Silence held for a bit, and then Manny raised his head, taking in the verdant treetops shaking slightly in the breeze, the warm rays of the sun, and the distant laugh of a small brook.

 

“It… _is_ rather nice here,” he admitted.

 

Striga smiled.

 

\---

 

Three enemy pokemon surrounded him.

 

 _Poor fools,_ mused Cap. _They don’t stand a chance._

 

The foremost pokemon, a Furret, rushed him, sinuously weaving through the long grass the same time that Cap heard another sound. The pokemon behind, a Vulpix, was readying a fire attack.

 

“You can’t fell a hero with a sneak attack!” Cap announced, and with a small burst of awesomeness, he picked up the Furret and plopped him right in front of the Vulpix.

 

Her friend suddenly in the line of fire, the Vulpix’s attack died on her lips, and Cap took the opportunity to vault over the still-dizzy Normal-type and cuff her right in the muzzle. She spun back, and he heard the sound of the last adversary, a Poochyena, making his move.

 

The pooch’s typing lent him an immunity to Cap’s awesome powers—but thankfully, his powers contained only a _fraction_ of his true coolness.

 

Waiting until the foe was almost right on him, Cap sidestepped, letting the Poochyena trip right over the small rock jutting out of the ground. The dog pokemon fell with a yelp and Cap pounced, pinning him to the ground.

 

“And that’s game!” he yelled, jumping off his foes. This called for some celebratory dance moves, with accompanying soundtrack. “Who’s awesome? Me,” he sang, weaving back and forth to the beat. “Who’s rad? _Also me!_ Who’s—”

 

Rui’s voice cut across the air, calling him to attention, and he stopped. “I’ll have to finish it later,” he said apologetically. He picked up his Captain Justice cap from where he’d left it on a nearby rock (a hero was never tarnished!!) and settled it on his head. He’d been wearing it in celebration ever since they left Pyrite. “Not everyone challenges a superhero, though. Marks for chutzpah. Ya did good.” He winked at the Poochyena. “Especially you, cutie.”

 

As the Dark-type blushed and stammered something out, Cap turned and trotted away, humming to himself. Today was a good day—but you know what could make it even better?

 

Duh. Nothing less than the daily recommended dose of Captain Justice.

 

He caught up with the rest of the gang. Most of them looked varying levels of amused (or, as he liked to think of it, Captastic) with the exception of Lady Stick-In-The-Mud herself.

 

“Did you enjoy humiliating some newbies?”

 

“Yeah!” Cap said. “I had fun.”

 

Luna blinked at him. “Well, I bet you feel real big and tough now, don’t you.”

 

“Sure do!”

 

She stared at him some more and stalked off, muttering. Cap watched her go, allowing himself his one daily devious smirk once she wasn’t looking. _Score one for Justice._

 

“Cap, I gotta ask,” Denri said, falling in beside him, “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

 

“Oh, it’s just natural talent, no real learning involved,” Cap replied breezily. “Though my Uncle Orange helped.”

 

“Your Uncle… Orange?”

 

He beamed. “Yes! He’s the coolest! He’s basically like this invincible Flareon guy. He taught me and Luna all about how to fight and steal. I was nimbler so I got to learn how to like, be fast and tricky while Luna got to learn how to be strong and take hits. He was like… the best! Everything you could ever want in an uncle, he basically was. He was patient, cool and understanding, and showed us the ropes and always protected us. He was the best!”

 

Denri looked at him, then ahead to Luna, then back to him. “So um… how come Luna always gets upset whenever you mention him?”

 

Cap turned to look at him. “Why do you think?”

 

A pause held there like a sunray, and then Denri nodded slowly. “…probably hurts to remember.”

 

“She has her reasons,” Cap said. He almost felt sorry for her a little bit—running away from the past and what she hated about it. For his part, if he closed his eyes, he could still hear his Uncle Orange’s voice, see his voluminous tail flowing in the wind…

 

Agate was small but visually striking. The village was built into a terraced hill, the ‘houses’ pushing into the earth; each terrace getting smaller and smaller the higher you went, with fewer and fewer houses. Near the top, Cap was able to turn around and see a vast field with gardens and crops stretched out for a few miles beyond the hill’s edge. Small cottages sat near brooks or under shaded trees. Moving at an easy, ambling pace, the elderly inhabitants of Agate never seemed in a terribly great hurry—yet, they always made it to where they were going, in the end.

 

At the top of the hill was an enormous tree, the sort you would imagine in fairy tales, and squatting in the low hollow formed by its massive, tangled roots was a house of stone and mortar. A small chimney poked out of the top, a tiny wisp of smoke curling up out of it, and a lone Combusken was tidying up the cobbled pathway leading up to it.

 

As Rui led them towards the house, the Combusken eyed them, blinking for a few moments, and then squawked out a call: “Someone’s here, boss!” The pokemon followed Rui’s lead, waiting outside the wooden fence, until the door swung open. A stooped and thin old woman, her grey hair done up in a bun with a handkerchief loosely tied over it, walked out. Her shrewd eyes swept up and down Rui before glinting in recognition. She opened her mouth, as if to speak.

 

But before she could, another person emerged. Age had not taken anything from this man except his hair color. He was tall—at least six feet—with the lean and ropey build of someone used to roughing it in the wilderness. He wore a long coat of faded but still striking indigo over a homespun shirt and trousers, and his eyes blazed like twin blue suns beneath sweeping hair that reached below his shoulders, and above a beard that swept even lower. He had the bronzed and spotted skin of a naturally pale man who spent a very large amount of time in the sun, and stood straight as a board. He had the sort of presence that would chill even a wild dragon into compliance.

 

The old man stood there, exchanging a harsh glance with Rui, who—to her credit—did not look away, though she fidgeted briefly.

 

Finally the old man crossed his arms behind his back. “Rui. Finally.”

 

Her face strained, Rui swung open the gate. “Grandpa.”

 

Wide-eyed, Cap looked back and forth between the two humans, casting the occasional glance at the old woman and the Combusken helping to support her. “Um… did I miss something?” he said. “I thought we were gonna be happy about this?”

 

\---

“Would have appreciated at least a visit—”

 

“I was on the run and needed to stay safe—”

 

“On the run, you mean, until you turned around and started picking fights you couldn’t win—”

 

“Someone had to help stop Miror B—”

 

“Expected you _months_ ago, never knew if I would ever see you alive—”

 

“You could have come down to Pyrite yourself—”

 

“Fat gratitude for someone who paid for your hospital trips _twice_ —”

 

Luna rose with a chuff, shaking herself off. Eagun, Rui’s grandfather, eyed the Umbreon with some annoyance, but she didn’t care. She rested her head on Rui’s knee. “Are you okay if I step out for a bit?” she said. “Sorry. I know you need support…”

 

Rui smiled down at her and scratched behind her ear. “I’ll be fine.” Luna turned and left the living room and its irregular walls of stone and roots behind.

 

They had the decency to wait until she was three paces down the hall before they resumed their shouting match.

 

Groaning, Luna ducked into a low room to the side. A storage room that had been hastily converted into a guest room, Rui had been given it as a place for her team to stay. The fact that they were on the ground floor near the entrance while Rui’s own room was on the second floor was what had ignited the simmering iciness between grandfather and granddaughter into a boiling argument. Burying her head under an old and slightly musty cushion, Luna heaved out a long and arduous sigh.

 

They were here. Agate Village—the least shitty place in Orre, or so it was heard. They’d traded a crime-ridden hive run by a tyrant for a deepgreen village run by—well, to be honest, Eagun _did_ seem to have a certain force of personality.

 

The door creaked open and she pulled her head out to see if someone was going to visit—Tama, perhaps, or Reed—but it was an unfamiliar face: the aged Combusken.

 

“Hope I’m not intruding,” he said, his voice slightly ragged but full of cheer and energy. There was an unspoken question in his tone— _can I come in?_ Good of him to ask, considering that it was technically his house, after all.

 

Luna nodded, and he beamed, walking inside. As he sat down on another dusty cushion, the muffled sound of Rui and Eagun pushed through the walls, and he rolled his eyes. “Humans,” he said, the tone he put into that one word listing a small novel’s worth of grievances.

 

“I feel you, buddy,” Luna said, and he chuckled.

 

“So I hear you’re the leader of your little, erm, group?”

 

“The closest there is to one, anyway,” Luna responded. It was technically true, though to be honest she was more of a first-among-equals than the usual idea of “team leader” conveyed. “How’d you hear?”

 

“I asked that Psychic-type,” the Combusken said, his eyes twinkling, “and he said _he_ was the hero and you were the sidekick. So I figured that a reversal was probably more accurate.”

 

“My brother,” Luna said, thumping her tail once on the ground for effect. “He means well, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

 

The Combusken trailed his fingers through his feathers, chuckling. “Oh, I understand entirely. My old partner, Electrum… he was a Raichu, and one of Eagun’s. He’s gone now, but I loved him dearly, even if… well, he could be a firebrand sometimes, and despite my typing, I decidedly am not.”

 

“He’s gone? I’m… sorry to hear that,” Luna began, but the Combusken cut her off.

 

“Don’t be.” He leaned back, a wistfully happy smile on his features. “You get old enough, and you don’t get sad about loss, but happy about what you had while you had it.” Leaning down at her, he continued: “Name’s Clasm, by the way.”

 

“Luna.” She crossed her paws over each other, thinking. “You said he was one of Eagun’s, so you’re…”

 

“Beluh’s, yes. Eagun’s wife. As dichotomous to him as I am to Electrum.” He chuckled. “Ah, the good old days… His team were real hellraisers, you know. None of the originals are there anymore—killed in combat, or gone to live with their descendants, or just wilted away as the seasons pass. Now Eagun only has Topaz. You haven’t met him; he’s adventuring in the forest. He’s a lot like his dad.”

 

“His dad?”

 

“Electrum, of course. Topaz is a Pikachu, and still fairly young. About your age.”

 

Luna tilted her head. Clasm was discussing his partner’s offspring which… couldn’t have been his.

 

“Something wrong?” he asked.

 

“Oh, ah, I just… you seem awfully at ease talking about Topaz.”

 

Clasm cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s my son.”

 

She blinked. Blinked again. “I…”

 

Clasm chuckled, stretching his limbs out, wincing good-naturedly at the pops. “Oh, of course. You’re confused. Topaz has two dads—me and Electrum. Electrum carried the egg, which is why Topaz shares his species. Electrum was rather like that Ampharos friend of yours. You understand?”

 

It all clicked for Luna, and she nodded. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put your family on trial…”

 

“I’m used to it.”

 

As their conversation lulled, the continued shouting of Eagun and Rui’s voices carried through the walls. Clasm sighed.

 

“Me and Electrum had our share of fights,” he said. “Electrum and his trainer are similar… they’re both capable of great love, but they’re hard men who don’t know how to express it. Eagun _does_ care about your trainer, even if he doesn’t act like it. It reminds me of when he would train his pokemon to the point where they could barely stand… he wanted them to be the best that they could be. I worried, but Electrum reassured me that the team understood and wouldn’t have it any other way. Once, when Jadestone passed, Electrum told me that Eagun wandered behind the house, where he thought nobody could see him, and then he beat his hands into the earth until they bled, and wept and wept…”

 

“Mm.” So Eagun had a hard time expressing love, eh? She wanted to say that she didn’t understand, but Cap…

 

She loved her brother, she really did…

 

But sometimes she imagined ‘accidentally’ locking his ball for a week or two or fifteen. Just sometimes, though.

 

“I getcha.”

 

Clasm nodded. “I thought you would.” He stood slowly and deliberately. “Come with me.”

 

Luna rose and followed him out of the house. Night had fallen, and now Agate was swathed in moonlight and the warm glow of houses below.

 

“There’s no place as lovely as this come nightfall,” Clasm said good-naturedly, before turning to the side. “There, at the edge of the hill. Do you see it?”

 

Luna craned her head. On the side of the hill on which Agate was built was a narrow finger of a forest, the dark trees clinging tightly against the hill. The brook which fed the fields meandered lazily out of it.

 

“I see it.”

 

“There’s something in there—we call it the Relic.” Clasm pointed down into the trees. “No path leads to the Relic, but it’s not difficult for even a human to find it, if they follow the water. It’s a tall, hollow pillar made of squat, ugly, mismatched blocks. It looks like a cheap prop from a movie set.” He turned to face her, his eyes suddenly serious. “Yet in its presence, you can feel your heart _sing._ ”

 

Somehow, Luna didn’t feel like she should be speaking. She let the Combusken continue.

 

“The story goes that the humans built it in celebration after the Aueriteks fell, but the pokemon have passed down a different tale. The humans didn’t build it, they _found_ it, and they worshipped there—and their gods _worshipped back._ Those were in the days right before the empire crumbled…”

 

The Combusken folded his arms. “Since those days, many things of Orre have changed—but one thing remains the same. The Relic is to be protected by the greatest trainers and pokemon in the region. That is why only the elderly are allowed to live in Agate. Because to make it to that age in Orre, you need to have true talent. And though their pokemon may not be as swift or hit as hard they once could…”

 

He put out his hand, summoning a small but intense globe of fire. Although he was several paces away, and although the globe was barely the size of a tennis ball, Luna could feel the heat pulsing off of it as an oppressive force. She couldn’t help but avert her eyes and take a step back, and then another. Not since Vulcana had she seen such immensity in flame. It was a staggering display of both power and technical mastery.

 

The Combusken gazed at her over the flames, his eyes flat, the light flickering on his feathers, before he dismissed it. “…though they are old,” he repeated, “they more than make up for it in experience.”

 

Tension held in the air for a long, uncomfortable moment, before he visibly allow himself to relax. “You and your trainer have been allowed a gift so rare that it has only occurred one other time within living memory: you are permitted to live in the echo of the Relic despite your inexperience. I do not wish to scare you, but as the team leader, I wish only for you to impart one truth upon those who follow: this is an honor that is _never_ to be treated flippantly. Are we in understanding?”

 

“We are,” she replied quietly.

 

The Combusken nodded. “Very well. My trainer trusts her husband, and Eagun trusts his granddaughter—so I, and the others of this village, have chosen to trust you as well.” He looked up at the stars, smiled, and then looked back at her. “I shall leave you to enjoy the night and your namesake, Luna.” And then he hobbled inside, all hints of the raw power he had demonstrated to her gone.

 

Luna flopped down into the grass, feeling the breeze tickle her, and allowed her thoughts to wheel around each other in loose spirals.

 

She barely noticed when the door opened and Rui flopped down next to her.

 

Luna eyed her trainer, hearing her heart skipping regularly and smelling the frustration cascading off of her. Humans were never so difficult to read as they suspected. Standing, she walked over to press her weight against Rui in comfort.

 

“Thanks, Luna,” Rui said absently, running her fingers through Luna’s sleek black fur.

 

Luna didn’t respond. Sometimes responses weren’t needed. Sometimes all you had to do was be there.

 

They passed minutes like that—and more minutes, and more still. An hour, perhaps. Luna was drifting into that heady half-slumber when it happened.

 

It was something you couldn’t feel with any of your senses. The sensation was like… like moss slowly creeping up a forest tree, but the tree was your _soul_ and the moss was…

 

Was… something. Something she had never felt before.

 

Luna startled awake and Rui rose at the same time, both of them exchanging glances as if to confirm _you felt that too, right?_

 

The sensation was gone as fast as it had come, but Luna felt almost a low moonshadow of laughter pealing from elsewhere.

 

She leaned over the side, the wind ruffling her fur, to see the trees in the woods below ruffling slightly in a breeze that sounded like a sigh.

 

It was not until the rustling had died, and Luna was inside, that she retroactively realized—the wind in the forest had been going the opposite way of the breeze everywhere else in Agate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say here except that we've arrived in Agate Village! A new place with new people and pokemon to meet... :3c
> 
> In addition, this run is almost a year old now! Whoa! For celebration, I am opening up a Q&A. You can ask questions directed at any characters or groups of characters, including dead ones, as well as the author--though I reserve the right to dodge questions that are spoilers. Post questions as replies to this chapter, or send them to me on deviantart (https://www.deviantart.com/deeforty-five/journal/The-Dark-We-Carry-Q-A-791119321) or the nuzlocke forum (https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/nuzlocke_forum/mature-ish-the-dark-we-carry-a-colosseum-storylock-t31731.html)


	27. Extra #3: Memory Cuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning on content: This chapter contains oblique references to sexual material, including actions of dubious content. Said material is referenced only, and in a way that does not make it explicit in any way.

The breeze tickled Reed’s nose, and he snuffled a bit—and then, without warning, sneezed.

 

He half expected to be chastised, but no one came—and really, who would mind in a place like this? Yawning, he took in his surroundings: bright green trees and grasses, all spreading their happy cheer beneath the soft muted grey of an overcast sky.

 

Reed leaned back, sighing. He adored days like this. In the deserts of Orre, it was too dry, too parched, for Water-types like him to truly lean back and rest and enjoy themselves. But here, in the cool hideaway of Agate, he could bask in the shade of trees and the terraced hill and repose in the cool humid air gifted by the stream that burbled out of the slow wood.

 

How long had it been since had enjoyed himself like this? How long had it been since he had _allowed_ himself to enjoy pleasures as simple as a clouded day and running water? Not since before.

 

Before.

 

Remembering it gripped his heart, as it always did. The times in the lab… what they had done, and what he did…

 

Fear and panic gripped him, and he dealt with it in his own way—quiet. Stoic. He had learned to hide hurt emotions in the lab; he had learned to bottle them and cage them deep within, never letting them show. Becoming a shadow pokemon had only exacerbated his natural tendency to retreat inside and cloak himself in denial. It was simple and easy. A clean solution.

 

Clean like a surgical knife. Simple like a blade. A surgical knife was simple and good at what it did, but it was hard to love. That hadn’t been a problem when he had considered himself unworthy of such attentions, when he had internalized the taunts of the labworkers and their pokemon that all he was good for was helping them get eggs.

 

But after Argyle’s last conversation with him, he was no longer certain.

 

Standing with a grunt, he ambled aimlessly down the cobbled path. Since their arrival just under a week earlier, they had been given run of Agate (though Luna had taken them aside and lectured them on the need to avoid the wood from which the stream emerged, doing so with such seriousness that even Cap hadn’t felt a need to argue back). The people and pokemon of Agate were accommodating—genuinely accommodating, not faking it. The old folk who lived there were congenial and friendly, and their pokemon always willing to play. The pokemon represented an array of species and ages—many of them were the offspring of the original partners of the retirees, and they were more than happy to rambunctiously play or scamper through the grasses and hillsides.

 

Some of Reed’s teammates—Striga, Cap, and Tama—had already made a number of friends among the local pokemon, and could be found playing with them.at many hours of the day. Even while he slowly walked towards the foot of the hill, he could spy Striga and Manny having a race with a Ledian. In an old woman’s yard, Tama was dutifully helping her carry gardening equipment alongside the lady’s Elektrike, and seemed happy to do so.

 

In fact, Rui’s continued bristling against her grandfather aside, all of the team seemed to be enjoying Agate as nothing less than idyllic. All except for Reed himself.

 

He stopped to rest on a flat rock beneath the shade of a tree, letting memories roll through his mind like rocks along a riverbed.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to be happy. He knew that it was dumb to blame himself for what had happened, and he knew that Argyle had a point. But even though he _wanted_ to be like the others—he _wanted_ to make friends and enjoy the sun and, dammit, just to let himself _smile_ again—he couldn’t. There was a knot in his belly and it was tangled up so tight…

 

Memory washed over him.

 

He is young, a Wooper, when he is taken from his trainer, a little boy from a different region visiting Gateon Port. His poke ball is pickpocketed by a rough man who mistreats him and gives him to another rough man, who sells him to a soft-voiced scientist. The Wooper is happy, at first, not to be around harsh-voiced and bullying pokemon, but his happiness swiftly fades.

 

He is trained well, and slowly grows in power. He is reliable in battle. He will never be an ace pokemon but he has potential as a solid backup option. The Wooper—who misses his trainer and thinks, even now, that he will someday get to go home—tells himself that his skills will make it better for his true master when he finds a way to escape. The years build and the Wooper grows solid and one day evolution suddenly lights up his whole body like the sun peeking from behind a cloud—all sudden and warm and energetic.

 

The Wooper—no, the Quagsire now—thinks that he will be allowed to leave the lab that has been his home for years. How foolish he is. He begins to have nightmares—dreams of dreams—and in his nightmares he is made to do degrading things; dimly, amidst his nighttime wanderings, he is aware that _something_ is poking around in him, some cackling shadow, a Ghost-type that flits out of the room once when he awakens too early.

 

And then, one day, the nightmares come alive.

 

He is taken to a room where there is a weary-looking Dragonair who carries herself with the air of a weary matriarch, though she is not that much older than he is. He is cautious and confused, and then they are told over speakers that the lab expects eggs, and fear and shock and revulsion knife through him and he refuses, and she tells him with a sad and gentle smile that this is the way it is, she does not resent him, and they can hurt him and her both, _make_ them do it, so they might as well.

 

The Quagsire follows her advice and hates himself, and he apologizes after and she comforts him, which only makes him feel even worse. His despair sharpens when it happens again with a Wartortle, and again after that with a Ninetales, and as it sinks in that he does not know when this will end he dulls himself to his emotions, to _everything,_ making himself just a robot that performs its routine. He sees some of them—the Dragonair, for instance—again and again throughout the years and there is always that note of quiet recognition, that sad bonding. And they do bond, he and the others in the program—they do not love each other, because there is not enough there _to_ love, but they recognize their shared indignities.

 

Dulling himself works well enough for him to become complacent, until one day he is led past a room where small baby pokemon are being raised—Phanpy and Poochyena and Lotad and Spheal. And he cannot help but stare in at them, realizing, truly _realizing_ for the first time that some of those might be his children, that he has _children,_ that he will never know them and they will never know _him,_ that he will be a nonentity to them forever—

 

The pain of that memory, of him breaking down in that hallway, overcame Reed, and he found himself shaking, realizing for the first time that he was weeping under the shaded tree. He sat there, awash in emotions, almost taken aback by how fiercely they stormed within him. It had been years since he had felt this strongly, since he had allowed himself, since he had even been _capable_ —

 

A murmur in the grass down the hill. He blinked and looked down there to see a lithe, dark, _beautiful_ form staring up at him.

 

Luna.

 

 _Not her,_ he despaired, _Arceus, please, not now._

 

She tentatively approached, worry writ plainly on her face. He felt every urge to flee, but fought them down. She was—they were—

 

What _were_ they? The two of them? He didn’t know. But whatever it was, she— _they,_ the two of them—deserved at least this. This little thing.

 

She approached him and sat on her haunches a respectable distance away, curling her tail around her paws. He, still sniffling, wiped the tears streaking down his cheeks.

 

Minutes drifted along, like a petal dancing in a soft breeze. Finally, Luna spoke.

 

“Are you okay?” she said in a small voice.

 

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. She came closer, pausing enough to give him time to turn her back, but he did not.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Did he want to _talk?_ No. No. He almost laughed. Why would he _ever_ give voice to his nightmares—and to her, of all pokemon?

 

Why? Why?

 

She looked at him with those big red eyes; they glinted like rubies… The clouds slowly drifted across the sky, unchanging and amorphous in their ever-shifting greys, but her coat was solid black, reliable and strong.

 

Reed swallowed. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that the breeze was Argyle’s voice. His fallen friend would have wanted him to open to her.

 

Mew above, but he was scared. He had faced so many things, but he was… scared.

 

Swallowing again, he looked at Luna. She was there, attentive, quiet, waiting for him. “Luna,” he said, his voice taut, “I… there’s stuff… you need to know about.”

 

“Okay,” she said, her voice still soft.

 

“It’s not… good stuff.”

 

She nodded.

 

So, voice shaking, he spun his story.

 

By the time he had finished, he was no longer crying—but she was. She was _weeping._

 

“Oh, Reed, I…” she choked out. “I’m… I wish…”

 

“Yeah,” he said, quiet.

 

“When all this is over,” she said, “if you want to turn your back on this region and—and find your old trainer, I’ll understand…”

 

“Oh, Luna,” he said. “That is long since passed. That boy… I don’t even remember his _name._ ”

 

“Can I… lean against you?” she asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She did, the touch making him tense (as it always initially did) before he melted into her embrace. The two of them sat like that, resting in each other’s presence, before he spoke again: “Talking hurt, but… already I think that it’s better.”

 

“That’s good,” Luna replied.

 

“Sometimes I… I think I don’t deserve… _this._ ”

 

She wordlessly shook her head against him in protest.

 

“I know, I know,” he replied. “I can’t help how I feel, though.”

 

“You can change it,” she replied. “You can try, at least.”

 

He looked up. The skies were still overcast and cool—his favorite weather. Oftentimes in Orre, they were bare and harsh and sunny—the kind he hated. But today, they meandered slow and soothing and grey.

 

“Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps.”


	28. Chapter 25

**WHEN FIRST THEY SAW ME, HUMANS MARVELED AT MY POWER AND FELL, QUAKING, TO THEIR KNEES. EVEN NOW, IN AN AGE OF GLASS AND MONEY AND TECHNOLOGY, SOME INDEFINABLE QUALITY OF THOSE WHO COMMAND NATURE’S FURIES DRIVES THEM TO AWE. AND SO THEY CRY IN WORSHIP.**

**…WORSHIP. HUMANS PROFFER IT AS IF IT IS SOMETHING WORTH PROFFERING. CHARACTERISTIC ARROGANCE. THEY CANNOT IMAGINE BEINGS FOR WHOM THEIR FEELINGS DO NOT MATTER. YET, WHAT NEED HAS THE MOUNTAIN FOR THE SONG OF THE SPROUTLINGS? WHAT CARE HAS THE SKY FOR THE PEBBLES?**

**I DO NOT BEGRUDGE THEM, THOUGH, THEIR ATTEMPTS TO BRING THEMSELVES COMFORT. FOR IN TRUTH, THERE HAS ONLY EVER BEEN ONE ENTITY, ‘CROSS ALL THE AGES, WHOSE MEASURE I HAVE HOPED TO EARN.**

 

\---

 

Rui leaned back, idly wiping the dirt and sweat from her forehead. Gardening wasn’t _hard_ work, per se, but it was draining nonetheless in the unyielding Orre sun, which—even in this faraway, verdant corner of the region—never stopped browbeating those who walked underneath it.

 

Tossing the tubers and roots pulled from the rich dark earth into a woven basket, she leaned back with a satisfied sigh, idly watching small wisps of cloud broom their way across the sky. Overhead, a few bird and bug pokemon (offspring of the partners of the villagers; even here, Orre could not support a wild population) idled overhead on a singsong breeze. One of them—a Ledyba—had arrived to pollinate the garden this morning and had flitted about Rui, darting this way and that and examining her with undisguised curiosity.

 

“My, my! That went faster than expected!”

 

The sound of her grandmother’s voice yanked Rui from her reverie, and she sat up to find the old woman looking over her garden with an appreciative eye. “Well! You went so quick; already you took to agriculture like a Lotad to the pond!” the old lady quipped, settling down along her granddaughter.

 

“Or,” Rui rejoined mischievously, “I went normal speed and you’re getting on in years.”

 

“Psh!” Beluh said with good humor. “Indulge an old lady while she can still make quips!”

 

Rui laughed. Already she had settled into a rapport with the old woman, as if she had known her all her life rather than meeting her face-to-face seven days back. Holding up her hand—raw from the work, with dirt under the nails and a small sheen of sweat glistening beneath her pale-red arm hair—she had to admit she hadn’t considered how _rewarding_ such a task as gardening could be.

 

“Good thing the girls back home can’t see me now,” she muttered to herself. “All covered in dirt and sunburned… they’d faint at how unfeminine I am.”

 

“Unfeminine?” Beluh demanded. “Pfuh! That’s just city-girl talk—gals harping on about femininity who’ve forgotten what it’s all about! And what about dirt is unfeminine, huh? There’s a reason most early cultures start with an _earth_ goddess.” She stood and, despite her stooped back, made good time collecting the piles of roots Rui had set aside. “Just look at those Sinnohvians. Their goddess Heatran is the incarnation of the angry magma, the plenty and power of the earth combined into one. She’s said to have given humans the gift of metalworking, but don’t get on her bad side!” Turning around and crooking one hand on her hip, she fixed her granddaughter with a sharp, feisty glance. “You want a picture of the ideal lady? Give me a strong, solid woman who works with her hands, one with the fire and firmness of a Heatran—not one of those dainty Shaymin types who flits about poking her nose in flowers all day!”

 

Laughing, Rui rose to help her grandmother finish the work. “All right, all right, you made your point! I surrender!”

 

“Good,” Beluh said with a roguish lift of her chin. “I see you inherited my smarts along with my hair. Now help me carry this in.”

 

After doing so, Rui rested at the kitchen table, rejuvenating with a tall glass of cool water. She watched the Pikachu, Topaz, flit around the room before darting outside. Striga followed him, laughing; the pair had been playing a lot, as of late.

 

“That’s Eagun’s, yeah?” she asked Beluh as the old lady sat down alongside her.

 

“That’s right,” Beluh replied, “and the Combusken is mine. But the difference is academic. The two of them obey us equally—Eagun trains them in battle, and I teach them that there’s more to life than battling.” She leaned back with a wistful look on her face. “Seems empty with just the two of them… When you mom was a girl we had so, so many pokemon. Eagun had a full battling team, and I had a couple of my own. Now it’s just Clasm and Topaz, and Topaz wasn’t even one of the originals. He’s the kid of Eagun’s old ace, Electrum.”

 

 _Lots of pokemon, huh._ Rui’s mother had grown up surrounded by what—probably at least nine pokemon? Even more? It made sense why she was so insistent on not getting any during Rui’s childhood. Neither of her parents had been trainers, and the gift of Pompom had been the first pokemon in their house—well, ever.

 

If she closed her eyes, she almost fancied she sensed them—the lingering spirits of what had been, in their era, the greatest battling team in the world. “What happened to Eagun’s team?” Rui asked quietly.

 

Beluh waved her hand. “Old age, most of ‘em. Couple died in combat and the old softie didn’t have the heart to replace them. Catseye—his Zoroark—is the only one of the six still alive, but she lives with her offspring and their trainer over in Gateon Port. Visits a couple of times a year.”

 

“Sorry to hear,” Rui said. “I… lost a couple myself, before I…” She trailed off, her throat suddenly tight. The memory all came back to her: Pompom, Vulcana… Argyle. The friends she had found and lost.

 

She shook her head, upset and confused at the tears misting the corners of her eyes. Why _now_ of all times? When she wiped them free, she saw Beluh looking at her with compassion. For some reason, the old woman’s pity stung at Rui.

 

“I can listen,” Beluh offered, “if you want me to.”

 

Rui shook her head, and the old lady nodded. “Well enough,” Beluh said. “Well enough.” Leaning back, she gazed at her granddaughter. “Look at you,” she said softly, the way one might talk to the first flower of spring. “Grew up halfway around the world, you did, and we’d given up on ever seeing you face to face. And yet here you are, my little granddaughter.”

 

“‘Little’?” scoffed Rui. “I’m nineteen, grandma.”

 

Her grin widening, Beluh chuckled. “Somehow, that doesn’t impress me all that much.” As she rested her head in her gnarled palm, her smile softened. “Nineteen years in which I never truly knew my granddaughter… tell me about it, child.”

 

 _Tell her about it?_ Tell her _what,_ exactly?

 

Tell her about growing up with freckles and fiery hair in the most homogenous region in the world—getting called ‘half-breed’ and worse? Having even the most well-meaning people tread all over her, asking what it was _like_ to have such unusual hair _,_ wasn’t it _weird_ having a mom who didn’t speak Kantonian? Crying the first time you learned about Misty becoming a Gym Leader—crying because yes, there were others like you here, and they could _succeed,_ they could _be_ something?

 

Tell her about how all friends you made turned false, every one—girls who grew judgmental and spiteful as they grew older, or liked the spice an ‘exotic’ classmate gave to their clique, like you were an ornament? How lonely you were, how unattached; how the guys saw your ancestry as a signpost that you were easy and how they sulked when you turned out not to be. How you never had any companions, human or pokemon alike.

 

Tell her about how you always felt a connection with pokemon, but you were never allowed to have them in the house—dad was too busy and mom just didn’t like them, no reason why, so you’d run to the park and just stare at the people who walked past with Persian and Rhyhorn and Charmander, seething with jealousy; and the day your parents give you a pokemon of your very, very own, you do not even care that the date is far later than most other children get theirs because you finally have a true and loyal friend, and you’ll never be alone again? Tell her _that?_

 

Tell her about the day the company called to tell your family about your dad, so sterile and impersonal, the form letter signed by the CEO filled with generic praise that could be discussing any worker? The hole it left inside of you was nothing compared to your mother, who had never mastered the language of the nation she had spent two decades in and who was even more of an outsider than her daughter; how she, living in one of the most populous cities in the world, found herself without a single other person to connect with, and then she withered, withered away like a leaf fallen from a bough, withered from loneliness and grief and how you, self-absorbed as you were, didn’t realize it until she was too late.

 

Tell this stranger how it was then your time to taste loneliness—to run away to a barren region you had never known, to lose your Aipom even as you found things you never knew: powers and pokemon and _flint,_ an inner knife-edge you never knew you had?

 

Tell her how you pressed the button and watched Miror B die and realized that you wouldn’t have changed a thing that happened in that cavern if someone gave you a second chance?

 

Memory spooled through Rui’s heart like a thunderclap, an avalanche, and she simply shook her head. “I… no.”

 

And Beluh looked sad but not surprised. “Perhaps another time, then, child.” She paused. “I suppose that despite it all, you don’t think I know you very well.”

 

Rui kept silent. What were you supposed to say to _that_?

 

“But I wonder how well you know yourself—and the people who made you what you are. Did you mother ever train you?”

 

Eying her, Rui wondered what she was getting at. “Train me what?”

 

Rather than words, Beluh chose a different type of answer. She gestured at a small picture in a prop-up frame across the room and it lazily floated over to her like a toy boat on a river. Rui couldn’t help but flinch away at the open display of psychic power, and Beluh reacted with a sad smile.

 

“Are you really so fearful of your own, Rui?” the old woman asked, tracing a weathered finger down the dusty glass covering the picture. The mother-daughter pair inside... one looked like Rui herself about ten years younger, but with a short boyish crop and a gap-toothed smile. The woman standing over the little girl was short but brawny, with the sort of figure and build that came only from a life of farmwork. Her hair, the same color as her daughter’s, was done in a loose braid, and even in her mid-thirties, she had a spray of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She wore a stained shirt of red-and-black flannel and was tousling her daughter’s hair good-naturedly.

 

Glancing up, Beluh looked her granddaughter in the eyes. “Why are you so easily afraid of a fellow psychic, Rui?”

 

Rui sat thunderstruck. “F-fellow…”

 

Chuckling, the old woman returned her attention to the picture. “It shouldn’t be so hard to deduce. Psychic powers are passed down the maternal line. My mother had powers, as did _her_ mother. Any daughters you have will almost certainly have powers; sons, though, it’s an even-odd chance.”

 

“Wait, then do you mean— _my_ mother—”

 

Beluh blinked. Blinked again. Then she sat the picture back with a low sigh.

 

Only now did Rui appreciate just how weary the woman was. She had been short in her prime and was shorter now, her back stooped and bent. Her face was lined and unadorned, and her hair was a soft grey sheet that fell to the nape of her neck; it was covered by a faded paisley bandana. Her eyes were bright, though, and saw far—far.

 

“Why?” Beluh said after so long. “Why, Anna? You were always so proud of them…”

 

Hearing her mother’s name stung. “Kanto isn’t… especially friendly towards psychics,” Rui said, remembering the vitriol when Sabrina had ousted the popular Karate King as Saffron’s Gym Leader (and thus, the most visible Leader in the region.) “In fact, besides Orre, most places aren’t.”

 

“Oh my sweet daughter,” Beluh said with a soft and slightly bitter sigh before turning her attention to Rui. “You never knew? Did you think you just… _got_ them out of nowhere?”

 

“They only manifested a few months ago,” Rui responded, “when I first arrived in this region. She had already passed.”

 

“So late!” Beluh said. “Why, she and I knew by the time she was old enough to go to school… she was always making petals dance or pretending her dolls were characters from fairy tales, sending them spinning around the room.”

 

Rui swallowed, or tried to. Her mom was… had been… all along? And she’d never told Rui, never even said so much as a word? “She moved stuff with her mind. So she was the same kind as you?” Rui asked.

 

“Well, yes and no. All she had was levitation—I have both that and pokemon empathy. I know that you picked up that latter one.”

 

“Yeah.” Rui paused before continuing. “And Aura.”

 

Beluh’s eyes shot up. “Psychic power of any sort is rare, and having two is rarer still, but that combination… some of the most influential trainers in history have been fortunate enough to wield both empathy and Aura.”

 

Recalling how exactly they’d manifested, Rui’s mouth soured. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel so ‘fortunate’.”

 

With a sigh, Beluh dismissed the picture back to its place. It floated delicately through the air. “It’ll come in time. Rui… I know that we’ve a lot of time to make up, and your grandfather can be… overbearing.”

 

 _You can say that again,_ Rui thought wryly.

 

“Yet,” Beluh continued, “you _are_ family, Rui, and I hope don’t forget that. Now,” she said holding out her arm, “help an old lady enjoy the sunset, would you?”

 

Rui dutifully helped Beluh outside. The verdant valley of Agate was splayed out before them, the setting sun washing everything like newly polished amber.

 

And then, for the first time in weeks, she opened herself to Aura.

 

Dots of colored light filled the valley like lilies in a pond. She saw pearlescent white, vivid gold; violent, maroon, a deep and soulful blue. They moved, surrounding the people and the pokemon. She glanced overhead and saw a Taillow playfully chasing a Beautifly. Both pokemon’s auras burned a pale, rosy pink.

 

Her own aura was still the same emerald she remembered. Perhaps slightly less vibrant, perhaps a little smoky here and there—but it still rang true. She glanced sideways. Her grandmother’s was a yellow faded almost to white, the color like a portrait of a Pikachu that had been left in the sun for a few days. A few wisps of more vivid color still threaded through it every now and then, flickering like stars in the night sky.

 

 _Mom…_ Rui thought, filled with mournfulness and a deep sense of loss. It sunk in her like a stone. _What color would your aura have been?_

_And why didn’t… why didn’t you tell me?_

 

Realizing she was close to tears, she dismissed Aura. The normal world, as always, seemed… wan without it.

 

Beluh was looking at her granddaughter. “What did you see?” she asked.

 

“Nothing,” Rui said. And then, after a few short seconds, she amended: “Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly a character and worldbuilding chapter, but one I'm pretty happy with!
> 
> Also, I think I promised you guys info for the late Pyrite catches. Gird up your loins, cause here they come...
> 
> Male Shadow Remoraid = Gatling  
> Male Shadow Qwilfish = Serrate  
> Male Shadow Meditite = Shotel  
> Female Shadow Dunsparce = Mytha  
> Female Shadow Swablu = Mistral  
> Female Shadow Sudowoodo = Rosewood  
> Male Plusle (Gift from Duking) = Regent
> 
> In-story, these were the non-feral shadows led by Mantine (the Plusle is retconned to a shadow in the story.) Rui caught them, but similar to the other non-team shadows, you can assume they are chilling with Duking's daughters back at the manor.


	29. First Anniversary Q&A!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year ago today, The Dark We Carry was posted for the first time! In celebration, I've done a Q&A featuring characters, as well as me, the author. Questions were submitted by readers on the nuzlocke forums!

**To Rui:**

_Did you have any dreams or aspirations before any of this happened?_

Rui crosses her arms in idle thought. “Not really, to be honest? Mostly I just wanted to get a good job and live a quiet, unobtrusive life. I was pretty unambitious before all this came along.”

_Favorite memory from Kanto? (there's gotta be a few good ones)_

Her eyes momentarily light up. “Oh, once we traveled down to the Sevii Islands for a summer vacation when I was in junior high… frolicking in the briney waves was a dream, and I remember playing with friendly wild Krabby in the shallows.” She giggles. “When my mom found out, _boy_ did she not like that…”

_How long are you planning to stay in Agate? Any plans for where you'd be going next? (if you are planning on leaving at some point)_

“I don’t know. Originally, my plan was simply to move in with grandma and grandpa. That was before I knew about all this nonsense, though. I’d like to continue the fight, but I’m worried—Miror B almost ruined us, and he was middle-of-the-road, from what I understand. Plus I have no idea where to go. I suppose I wouldn’t mind visiting Phenac and meeting Ximena again. I owe a lot to her.”

_Have you thought about taking your team, going back to Kanto, and curb-stomping the League?  (probably after everyone's been cured of their shadowiness, of course)_

Her laughter fills the air. “No, no… I have no real desire for anything like that. I’m not a circuit battler. And besides—my team is strong enough to maybe fight some Gym Leaders, but the Elites and the Champion would totally stomp us, shadow powers or no.” A faraway look steals into her eyes. “Though maybe if Vulcana was still with us…”

_If you could add any one pokemon to your team, why would it be Arcanine?_

Another laugh. “Well, Arcanine is a wonderful pokemon, but if I were to add one to my team… if we’re talking about a powerhouse, I’d like some rare and powerful dragon like Salamence or Kingdra.” Her expression grows a touch wistful. “And if I’m allowed to say the _real_ answer, then… I’d love to see Pompom again…”

_If you got one question to ask the mysterious voice, what would you ask them?_

Crossing her arms grumpily, Rui snorts. “Why you gotta be so vague and mystical all the time, huh?”

_Do you regret not being able to just punch Miror B in the face at least once?_

There is no answer. She stares down at her own fist, reflexively tightening and loosening it, tightening and loosening. Her mouth is thin and her face is like stone.

_If you could go back to Kanto and have things be the way they were, would you?_

A moment’s quiet. “I don’t know, really. I… I would like to be with mom and Pompom again, and dad too if I’m allowed to go that far back, but… but knowing that without me, Denri and Tama and all the others would be violent weapons, and Miror B would run Pyrite, and…” She exhales, knuckling her cheeks. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

_If you could have ended it peacefully, if you know that ending it peacefully would really be the ending, would you have?_

“I… I…” She swallows, and looks out the window. “No, I don’t think I would,” she says softly, her voice a touch ashamed. “I… _hated_ him, so much. He didn’t deserve a peaceful ending.”

**To Striga:**

_Striga, how long is the ideal nap?_

They turn over in the air a few times. “Hmmm… I’d have to say like, maybe fourteen to sixteen years?” They blink. “Or are we talking about on a human timescale?”

_Any pastimes / social activities with the team that you particularly enjoy?_

“Yeah!” They spin around, the baubles on their neck shining excitedly. “I love playing games with the other pokemon, especially Tama and Cap! I’m best at hide-and-go-seek.” They stick out their tongue. “Though I’m told that intangibility is cheating, hehe…”

_If you could be human again, would you take it?_

“Hmmm… nah. I had a good life as a human even if the ending was a little rough. As for being a pokemon, it has its own perks!”

**To Reed:**

_If you could be any other Pokemon who would it be?_

His face scrunches in thought; he blinks slowly. After a few minutes, he answers. “Porygon or Magneton. Something artificial.”

_You doing okay, bud?_

“I am. Though to be frank, had Rui not Snagged me and I was still working for those criminals, I still would have described myself as ‘okay’. Anything was better than...” He trails off, looking to the side.

**To Tama:**

_Describe life as the most dependable and objectively well-adjusted member of this gang of misfits and hooligans._

Tama tilts his head one way, then the other. “That’s… not a question. But thanks, I guess.”

_Tama, does Bruno Mars is gay?_

A shrug. “I don’t know, does he?”

_You’re doing wonderfully and I’m very proud of you._

A hint of what might be a pout. “How come I didn’t get any _real_ questions?” The pout fades into a slight smile. “But thank you.”

**To Manny:**

_Manny, what are you thinking of the new team?_

He hovers in the air, his great wings slowly beating. “They seem cohesive and dependable. I think… I might be able to make it work, with them.”

_If you could change your name, would you?_

A shake of the head. “No. I’ll probably never see my original trainer again. This name is the closest to a memento I’ll ever have.”

**To Denri:**

_You’re my favorite!_

His tail lights up with pride, and he grins roguishly. “Yeah! I knew that _some_ humans out there had good taste!”

_Thoughts about the shock and awe incident at Miror B.’s hideout? Would you do it differently if you had the chance?_

His bravado instantly deflates. “I… I know I shouldn’t blame myself, but… yeah, I screwed it up big time. I would have told myself not to give in so easily.” He looks at you. “But the darkness can be so persuasive, sometimes.”

**To Argyle:**

_Was Cap your first crush?_

He looks wistful. “No. In my first team, there was a teammate… a Kirlia… we had a mutual ‘can’t-spit-it-out’ thing going on.” His wistful look brightens. “I never thought I would see them again, and yet… here we are.” He pauses, blinks. “Two psychic pokemon… do I have, like, a _type?_ ”

**To Eagun:**

_How long have you been mayor of Agate?_

He folds his arms behind his back. “One or two years after retirement. Would be just over fifteen years, now.”

**To Duking:**

_What keeps you in Pyrite?  I know things are better now, but why did you stick around when Miror B ran the town and threatened you regularly before Rui showed up?_

He leans back with a sigh. “Pyrite is my _home._ I grew up here. It wasn’t always this bad, and I figured… it was my duty to make it what it could be. If I didn’t, then who the hell would?”

**To Miror B.:**

_What are your thoughts and reflections on how events have transpired now that you're dead?_

A long and languorous sigh. “She be tough as I ‘spected—and tougher still on top. Still, I had a good run. Sure, the last five mins ain’t been fun, but overall… regrets? Not many.”

_How’d you get tangled up with this whole mess? Any thoughts about how your life could've gone if you hadn't turned to crime?_

He reaches up to idly adjust his afro. “Most kids in Pyrite be flirting with crime. I just the one lucky ‘nuff to take him to bed. When my bosses roll in, they see me and my gang and know they either gotta recruit me or ruin me. They make it plain and I choose the former—ain’t no sense in taking a dumb stand.” He leans back, his eyes hidden by his shades. “As for what mighta been… hell, I don’t do shit like that. Why chase empty dreams, you dig? Last time I thought the world’d let me make it straight, I still had some baby teeth.”

_Why disco? Really._

He kicks his feet up with an air of amused disdain. “Ain’t nothing to answer. You either got the soul or you don’t. And you? _Don’t._ ”

**To the shadow within Lovrina:**

_Have you discovered kaomojis yet? Your thoughts?_

“（＊〇□〇）……！

୧▒ •̀ o •́ ▒୨  
!(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ ”

 

_What do you do for fun?_

“I _sing_.”

**To Wes:**

_Same question as Rui: did you have any dreams or aspirations before any of this happened?_

He shrugs. “Get out to Gateon Port. Get out of Orre, the Brotherhood. That whole _life._ ” He glances up. “Hope the tykes can still make it.”

**To Cap:**

_Who's the undisputed leader of the team and why is it not Luna?_

His tail swishes back and forward pleasantly, a singsong tune humming in the back of his throat. “Welllllllll… to be honest, Rui’s the _real_ leader, y’know? I never get why pokemon always act like there’s a ‘team leader’ when at best you’re the lieutenant.” Cap sits squarely on his haunches. “Besides, a _real_ hero doesn’t have to _say_ anything. So there.”

_Why is Awesomeness™ weak to lowly bugs?_

His composure slips—for just a moment. “ _Lowly_ bugs? Have you, like, _seen_ Scyther? Or Pinsir? Those things are for real!”

_On a scale of one to Gay, how gay are you?_

With a knowing lift of his chin, he turns his head towards the sun. “I defy all your attempts to categorize me—because answering this question implies the gayness of Captain Justice can even _be_ charted!”

_What do you think would have happened if Argyle hadn’t died? Or had told you, before he did?_

A somber gloom falls on him. “…oh. I… I don’t know. I’ve…” He trails his paw through the dirt, not looking up. “I’ve, um, flirted a lot, but never had anything… work long-term, you know? It would have been interesting… a little scary, but I… would’ve liked to try.”

**To Luna:**

_Do you think your brother will ever grow up and accept your authority? If not, what's your strategy for staying sane in the long run?_

An eyeroll. “If he does, then he’ll no longer be my brother. And to be honest, I’m perfectly capable of giving back—and he’s usually not gonna start trouble in the thick of things. Sometimes you just gotta lend family a little extra leeway, you know?”

_Where do you see the team going in the long term? Is it worth looking for a way to cure the shadows, or do you think just trying to accommodate their condition is safest?_

“In the long term? That depends on Rui more than anything. She’s conflicted between settling down and pursuing those people who were above Miror B. We…” She flicks her tail back and forth. “We would like either, I think, as a team. As for the shadows…” She glances over at Reed, who is sitting quietly some ways away. Her voice grows soft. “They deserve help.”

_Why do you consider yourself the leader when Rui makes all the important decisions?_

“Because I keep these goofballs in line and direct them when Rui’s not around. That’s what being a team leader _is_ —implementing the decisions the trainer makes and making sure nobody gets any bright ideas.” She cocks her head to the side. “Hold on, has… has Cap been talking shit again?”

_Do you think you and Reed will work out?_

Another sideways glance. “I… I want to hope that we can. But hope is something rather… rather new to me.”

**To Cap & Luna:**

_Cap and Luna are forced to trade bodies for a week.  What happens?_

Cap-as-Umbreon glances down at his new body, wriggles his toes, then happily bounds away, chortling, the bioluminescent patterns on his new body flashing all sorts of different levels of brightness. Luna-as-Espeon sighs, sinks her head onto her paws, tries _desperately_ to ignore certain new anatomical developments, and manages to grasp enough control over telekinesis to move a hose and trip up her brother. When Cap looks up with injured pride, she allows herself a devious, self-satisfied smile. “You know, Cap, you’re right—this _is_ fun,” she says, and Cap gulps.

**To All:**

(Dee’s note: I have decided to have only Rui and the main 7 members answer this one.)

_Who’s your favorite / least favorite member of the team, and why?_

Rui: “Well, Luna is the most dependable. As for the least favorite… well, I always said that I should have done better.”

Striga: “Hmmm… a tie between Cap and Tama, who I love to play with! Though Manny’s nice too. Least favorite… well, Reed is always a little bit… standoffish, I guess.”

Reed: *He glances towards Luna with a slight smile on his face, then glances towards Cap with… less of a smile on his face.*

Tama: “Cap is my favorite. Least is… Probably the new guy, if only cause I don’t know him well.”

Manny: “Striga has been kind to me. The Umbreon seems a bit bossy, however.”

Denri: “Fave? Oh, definitely Reed. Big respect for helping rein me in on that rooftop. Least favorite, um… Striga, I guess. Grow a spine! Uh, metaphorically.”

Cap: “Tama’s fun to play with, but #1 has got to be Denri! And boooooooo to stick-in-the-mud sisters… even though you can’t help but love them.”

Luna: “Reed is… underappreciated, and working so, so hard, in his own quiet way. Cap could learn a thing from him.”

_What’s your favorite food?_

Rui: “Sashimi, freshly cut.”

Striga: “I don’t _have_ to eat, but those treats Rui got for me!”

Reed: “Food is overrated. A cool drink of clear, clean water is best.”

Tama: “Nuts. Beans. Other simple proteins.”

Manny: “My new trainer has these treats… succulent doesn’t describe it.”

Denri: “Hondew Berries, fresh and _raw!_ ”

Cap: “Okay! So! This one time when I was still an Eevee I smelled this awesome smell from a garbage can so I tipped it over. There was this foil-y wrapper covered in this like, weird sticky hamburger sauce? There wasn’t even any proper food there but maaaaaaaaaaaan that sauce was good.”

Luna: “Sitrus Berry puree.”

**To Dee:**

_How did you come up with the concept for this intriguing story?_

Okay, so. I was on shift back in early 2016. Dear Diary was underway and I knew I wanted to do a sequel series but I had no idea what. The shift was monotonous and boring as hell; I started spacing off. Then, suddenly, I had an image of Rui, standing alongside a shadow pokemon, before the Relic Stone. _Just_ Rui, no Wes. I’ve always been a sucker for Orre in general and Colosseum in particular, so I developed that idea over the next few weeks. Fun fact: “The Dark We Carry” had been decided on as my title by the end of that long and boring shift.

_What was the hardest chapter to write?_

Chapter 20. Not for any particular content, but the events therein were just difficult to write convincingly… I must have gone through half a dozen drafts on this one and I still wasn’t fully satisfied with the end. If it seems more experimental than other chapters, that’s why.

_Which of the characters is your favorite/least favorite?_

Vulcana was a personal favorite of mine, and I’m sad I haven’t had the opportunity to divulge her backstory yet. I actually came up with a pretty extensive one, but Book 1 didn’t seem to have any good place for it. Least favorite would probably be Striga, who I don’t dislike, but is still difficult to get a decent read on most of the time.

_How many myths do you plan to write, exactly?_

**as-many-as-i-want-shut-UP**

_What’s **your** favorite food?_

Oh! Well, I’m partial to steak… but I’ve tried to cut back lately due to the influence of the meat industry on the environment. Buy local; don’t support factory farms!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first year! Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you in year #2 ;)


	30. Chapter 26

He dreamed of the sea.

 

The storm-tossed waves, the thundering clouds overhead—the sheer, unrivaled _depth_ of the deeps, and the quiet power of the water.

 

The sea spoke to him. The sea _sang_ to him. The sea—

 

Manny’s eyes snapped open.

 

He slowly shook himself awake within the comfortable confines of his poke ball. Each poke ball’s interior was different for the individual pokemon, based on their type and species. For him, it was a small pocket of cool brine, the saltwater pleasantly filtering through his gills.

 

And yet, even with his original trainer, he had never seen the ocean…

 

He hoped to, one day. Agate was not so far from Gateon Port, after all. He was not deluded enough to think that he could take to it like— _well,_ he thought with a cynical amusement, _like a fish to water._ He was too used to life on land. Too tired…

 

Manny shook his head, grumbling. He was too _young_ to be tired. Talking to Rui, and to the others as well, told him that the process of being made shadow affected pokemon in different ways. The Makuhita had shut down his emotions. The Misdreavus was withdrawn, yet prone to occasional bursts of feral outrage. He, it seemed, was weighted with despair—something quiet and heavy that dragged him down like…

 

 _Like an anchor,_ he thought again.

 

He stayed in his ball for a few more minutes, relishing in the water. Unlike many marine pokemon, he could go whole days in the open air without anything more than mild irritation—but he preferred the close confines of this, a place mimicking a home he had never known.

 

 _Enough,_ he chided himself. _Sun. You need sun._

 

And so he opened himself to the world again.

 

There was sun aplenty in Agate, thankfully, and the air was cool and crisp. Manny idly drifted over the barely-tended lawns, which in some cases seemed more like meadows, his wingtips brushing over the dewy grasses. The Mantine allowed himself to luxuriate in the early afternoon. The wind was blowing quite strong—enough that he had to exert effort to keep himself from being carried off. For a Flying-type like him, however, it was no problem.

 

It was at one particularly strong gust that a small, crimson pokemon flew past with a yipe, buffeted by the breeze. Manny blinked, barely processing, before a small Poochyena scampered past, barking in distress: “ _Wait,_ ” he was saying, “come back!”

 

The young red pokemon—a Ledyba, Manny realized—was being blown about by the heavy winds. Before he even realized it, he shot into action.

 

He carted though the sky with grace and precision, his wings slicing through the heavy air. The little Bug-type was in danger of being buffeted into a large tangle of brambles, but Manny managed to head her off before anything unfortunate happened.

 

When the Poochyena caught up, the Ledyba shielded by Manny’s body had mostly recovered, though she was still dazed. “You alright?” he asked as her friend skipped excitedly around her.

 

“Mhmmm,” the little Bug-type said. “Just gotta fly stronger…” She gazed up at her savior with awe. “You’re strong, mister. What’s your name? Mine’s Woodwind.”

 

He smiled. “That’s a cute name. It’s Manny.”

 

After the wind died down, Woodwind and her friend skirted away, the Ledyba turning to wave farewell. Manny smiled back at her.

 

Shadow or not, he felt impelled to shield smaller pokemon from danger. That was the role he had settled in to stay sane down there in the pit: commanding the lesser shadows against the Feral Ones.

 

He would never go so far as to claim that he missed the pit. But he did miss that band of pokemon, and the quiet confidence which had filled him as he served as their leader. Since joining Rui’s team, he had been forced to confront the fact that he was no longer the strongest pokemon around, that he wasn’t a _leader_. He had tried to avoid making an ass of himself, but that Umbreon rubbed him the wrong way… though perhaps he was simply jealous.

 

Watching Woodwind and her friend return to the quiet safety of Agate, however, Manny couldn’t help but smile. He could serve as a protector, a guardian, and a leader to pokemon without sacrificing his place on the team. The rest was just… growing pains.

 

One step was to better get to know his new team. He winged away, scanning for familiar faces—the Espeon, the Makuhita, the Ampharos. Just because most of them were shadows didn’t mean that they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company. And who knew? Perhaps one day, he might even take his new friends to see the ocean.

 

\---

 

Topaz’s trainer was in an argument with his granddaughter again.

 

The Pikachu swiveled his face back and forth, looking from one to another. The two humans were alike in so many ways—it was easy to see they were related. They were both tall, both confident, both _fantastic_ trainers. Both Rui and Eagun had that quiet command of presence which indicated that no, you would _not_ convince them to back down, so best back off before you get unhappy.

 

Which was a problem when the two of them shared a room but not a point of view.

 

This morning, Rui had thrown on her boots and that long blue coat, and had wandered down the base of the hill towards the forbidden forest which housed the Relic.

 

Naturally, this hadn’t endeared her to the populace.

 

While she had argued—credibly—that she hadn’t known just how taboo the forest was, her insistence that something had come to her in a _dream_ urging her to visit was met with healthy skepticism by her grandfather. Now the two of them were arguing over whether she could be allowed, and just whether or not Eagun was a hypocrite: “Oh, so what I saw is make-believe, but you’re still insistent that I can’t go to the place because I might disturb the _magic rock?_ ”

 

When the conversation shifted to _respect_ —Eagun demanding it for being the leader of Agate and her grandfather, and Rui demanding it for her abilities and ‘not being a child’—Topaz finally had enough. Scampering outside, the Pikachu figured the humans could sort out their own problems.

 

Besides, there was Striga to play with.

 

The little Ghost-type was hovering around Beluh’s flowerbed, the baubles around their neck shifting in color to match the petals underneath. Topaz wondered if they were even aware that they did that.

 

On noticing them, Striga’s face lit up, and Topaz smiled back. He was significantly more fond of Rui’s team than the girl herself, but the Misdreavus was his favorite.

 

“Heya Striga!” he said, bounding up. “Wanna race?”

 

“For sure!” Striga said, smiling. “When do we start?”

 

“ _Now!”_ Topaz yelled mid-stride, dashing away. He heard the Misdreavus’s cry of shock echoing behind him.

 

“No fair!” they called after him. “That’s _cheating!”_

 

“So’s using intangibility to run straight through rocks, but that didn’t stop you last time!” Topaz called back, laughing. He skirted past Ms. Mallory’s garden, hopped over the fence, took the 9-foot drop in a roll, then slid down a muddy hillside, coming to a stop near the signpost (their designated finishing spot) before Striga caught up. The ghost looked like they wanted to be mad, but they were smiling too much, and the two pokemon collapsed over onto each other, each giggling.

 

“Why is playing with you so _fun_?” Striga asked.

 

“Cause I’m _awesome,_ ” Topaz replied confidently. He tried shaking off mud from the tumble down the hill, but only some came off—he’d have to wash it off in the stream.

 

“You stole that from Cap,” Striga accused without malice, and Topaz laughed.

 

“That pompous psychic? No way, I’m my own pokemon!”

 

After Topaz was clean, he sprawled in the grass, his cheeks sparking mildly from the electric bath. Striga settled beside him. He turned his face to rib the Misdreavus a little more, only to start—their face was somber.

 

“Everything okay?” he asked.

 

Striga shook their head. “Why do you pretend I’m normal? I told you. I’m not. They did—stuff to me, and I… sometimes I get… angry. Real angry. I don’t want to…”

 

They trailed off, and Topaz nodded. They understood. “I know. It’s okay, Striga. We’re gonna fix you. We’re gonna fix _all_ of you”

 

Striga looked at him with wide eyes. “Do you mean it?”

 

“Yeah. One thing you should know about my family? We’re kind of badasses.”

 

Striga smiled, and then their smiled widened. “You _are_ like Cap.”

 

\---

 

Tama should have been training. He should have been sparring. He should have been working hard to improve his battling strength.

 

Instead, he was… quietly wandering past the village houses.

 

It made no sense. He was a battling pokemon. A member of a combat team. A shadow pokemon. A _Fighting-type._ Everything about who he was attested that combat should have been his lifeblood. And yet…

 

Here, in Agate, the world sang to him as it never had before. The soft dappled sunrays beaming through the wispy clouds; the errant static of tree leaves brushing against each other in a soft breeze. He had never… had never experienced anything like this.

 

He sat down, quiet in thought. He was _happy._ Happier than he had been in a long, long time. Beluh—the old lady—had let him take a little bit of sweet dough from a treat she had been making this morning. The flavor still lingered on his tongue. He had helped another old human with yard work, the carrying of stones—he had hoisted them easily over his shoulder.

 

Looking down at his palm, Tama flexed it in thought.

 

Strength. A seemingly simple word for a seemingly simple concept, and yet… how opaque it was. Who was it who had strength? Who was it who was strong? Back when he had been conditioned to accept that all his world was violence, the answers had seemed simple: whoever hit the hardest. But now he wasn’t certain.

 

Vulcana had been enormously powerful, by far the most powerful member of their team and perhaps the most powerful pokemon Tama had ever seen, shadow or no—but had her petulant anger, her brittle pride, been _strength?_ Was power _strength?_

 

Vulcana’s gift to him had been the gift of grief, the unlocking of his heart. He still remembered the way he had wept over her death—wept in sadness at losing her, and then wept in gratitude that he even _could_ weep. Was weeping unbecoming? Didn’t the laws of strength demand he lock away such emotions?

 

“If so,” Tama muttered to himself, “then let me be weak.” He had been that pokemon before—the dull, thoughtless, feelingless killing machine. He never wanted to be it again.

 

He wanted to be happy. And he _was_ happy here in this village. Helping old folk with their tasks, wandering under the trees and the soft blue sky; watching his teammates make fools of themselves.

 

Vulcana had given him grief, but this place was giving him _joy._

 

But he was a Fighting-type pokemon. A battler. A shadow. Joy was not his lot. His lot was fleeting. He would find himself forced into dark places sooner or later, he knew it.

 

Yet, for the time being, Tama was willing to appreciate what he had while he had it.

 

\---

 

Electricity met psychic power, exploding in an array of sparks and color. Amidst the fabulous display, Denri saw his opponent, Cap, squaring up his rump to charge him.

 

Denri smirked. Not _this_ time. This time he was ready. Lowering his body, the Ampharos prepared for Cap’s assault. The Espeon would rush him, but Denri would swivel, pin him under his tail, and shock him till he cried uncle. Cap was strong, but now was _Denri’s_ time to shine. He was ready.

 

Cap tensed, reading the charge, and then—

 

A tiny tug of psychic power at Denri’s feet, almost too subtle to feel, sent him tumbling off balance. He sunk with a wail, and more psychic energy smacked him as he fell. While he lay there, dazed, Cap trotted over and put one paw on Denri’s throat.

 

“And that’s game!” the Espeon said in a singsong voice before levitating his Captain Justice cap over to his head and setting it down. “Good go, Denri!”

 

Groaning as he sat up, Denri felt any momentary anger he held towards Cap dissipate. Despite the fact that Cap had gotten the best of him almost every time the two of them fought, it was impossible to stay mad at the little guy.

 

“I’ll get you one of these days,” Denri said.

 

“Nah,” Cap replied breezily. “Good tries, though.”

 

As the Espeon sauntered away, Denri fell in beside him. “Luna still beating herself up?”

 

“Mhmmm. She’s mad that she told all of us about Clasm’s warning but not Rui herself—this whole deal with Eagun could be avoided.” Cap shook his head, his ears splaying out from under his hat. “Uncle Orange always told us not to beat ourselves up over stuff like this—to learn from mistakes but not get ruled by them. Y’know? But neuroses, they’re just... a hell of a thing I guess.”

 

Denri coughed politely. Cap was calling out _Luna_ on neuroses? If that wasn’t the Razz calling the Cheri Berry red, then he didn’t know what was.

 

They continued walking in companionable silence for a little bit before Cap turned to look at Denri. “Hey, so um… you’re not mad that I… beat you lots. Are you?”

 

“Well, bringing it up out of the blue doesn’t help,” Denri drawled, “but I try not to be.”

 

Cap nodded. “Good.” About half a minute of silence passed before he spoke again, quieter this time: “You know, before Rui… whether we were on the streets or with the Brotherhood, my sister and I couldn’t afford to, y’know, estimate wrong. Picking the wrong fight could kill you. And so I always figured that it’s best to like… not to go easy on people even for their feelings, because if they get the wrong idea, they might not be able to protect themselves. But I’ve been wondering if maybe I was overdoing it, or…”

 

Denri reached down and ruffled his friend’s fur. “I’m a big boy, Cap. I can take it. Besides… I think we’ve sparred enough times that I could recognize when you’re holding back, and that would just feel like a hollow victory.”

 

“Makes sense.” Cap turned up to smile at Denri. “But you know why I spar with you the most, Denri?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Because you _are_ strong. Captain Justice doesn’t tolerate mediocrity.”

 

Denri blinked, and then laughed. “You know, Cap? That might be sincerely one of the nicest things anybody’s said to me.”

 

Another grin from the Espeon. “I do my best.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today we get some POVs that we don't normally see!


	31. Chapter 27

It was a crick in his back that woke Denri, and the Ampharos rolled out of his ball with a low grumble. Maybe he’d been sparring a bit too much with Cap?

 

He leaned to the right and the left, stretching out his arms. Poking his head into Eagun’s living room, he groaned at the time. 3am? Really? Some pokemon were capable of rolling right back to sleep after an early awakening, but Denri wasn’t one of them—so he resolved glumly to just accept that he was going to waste the evening.

 

Stepping out into the crisp night, Denri shivered at the delightful bite of the cool air. Below him, the village of Agate stretched, largely dim in the evening. This was everything that Pyrite _hadn’t_ been—quiet, unlit. A place you could hear yourself think. Above you could actually see the stars.

 

It was while studying said stars that his brow first started to furrow. Something he had taken for a star was actually moving—getting closer and closer. It was soft and pale, almost emerald in the evening sky, and he followed it with a knitted brow.

 

The mysterious false star touched down on a small house halfway down the hill, landing with a light buzz. Looking over the fence, Denri saw it was a Vibrava—a young male giving instructions to two other pokemon, a Vulpix and an Elekid.

 

“Remember,” the Vibrava was saying, “spread out and light them all on the signal—the point is to make as many as possible. Keep lighting them until you’re defeated or recalled.”

 

Both of the younger pokemon nodded, and Denri figured it was time to step out.

 

“Hey,” he said with affected casualness. “Anything you’re talking about, in particular? Why you being so sneaky?”

 

The Elekid and Vulpix cringed back, but the Vibrava’s eyes narrowed beneath his green discs.

 

“Head out,” he said coldly. “Get going. I’ve got this guy.”

 

The two other pokemon dashed away. Denri sent a lightning bolt after them, but the Vibrava zipped into the attack’s pathway, easily shrugging it off thanks to his Ground-type.

 

“You’re… a shadow, aren’t you?” the young dragon asked. “I can smell it on you.”

 

Denri’s heartrate rocketed. He felt the shadows slowly rising from their torpor; they were demanding him to rip, tear, shock, destroy. He beat down the urges. Not again, dammit, he wasn’t going to go berserk _again,_ he was better than that!

 

“And you’re standing against us,” the Vibrava continued. He buzzed in a lazy circle towards Denri, and the latter responded by circling away in kind—the way two swordsmen might prowl at the edge of the arena in old samurai movies. “You must be one of the shadows that’s gone rogue. I don’t understand why you’d waste such a gift.”

 

“Gift?” Denri said, his voice low and only barely even. “What kind of gift do you think this is?”

 

“My birthright,” the Vibrava replied. His wings were a green blur in the air. “They tell me my mother’s a shadow, and although she has given my masters egg after egg after egg, only a few of her children are worthy to receive the blessing. If I do well on this mission, I might be one of them.”

 

“Well then,” Denri said, “apologies in advance.”

 

He lunged at the Vibrava but the young dragon skirted upwards, the updraft kicking up dust and sand. As Denri staggered back, sputtering, the Dragon-type’s weight smashed into him, knocking him back with a chuffing exhale of breath.

 

More zipping blows from the Vibrava checked against his body, and Denri hissed as small scratches left thin cuts in his skin, tiny streams of scarlet coming out to stain his fur.

With the adversary closing in, Denri sidestepped and grabbed the started creature by its tail, swinging it into a wall of a nearby house. The Vibrava fell with a grunt, and as people began stirring inside the house, Denri spun and smashed the bauble on his tail against his enemy.

 

A light switched on inside, and the sound of people moving could be heard in the others nearby. “Dammit,” the Vibrava squeezed out between sharp breaths, “the signal’s not up yet… guess there’s nothing to do but push the schedule forward!”

 

Driving Denri back with a momentary gust of wind from his wings, the creature opened his mouth and spat a tongue of flame at the straw roof of the nearby house. Denri watched in horror as the material went up like a match, and the Vibrava spat another fireburst at a woodpile stacked against a house across the street. The pile too was engulfed.

 

As humans began screaming in astonishment and the Vibrava snickered, Denri felt his emotions surge outward—horror gave way to anger gave way to sheer unbridled _fury,_ and there was a black voice within his heart gleefully urging him to _end_ this creature.

 

The Vibrava’s smugness was dashed to pieces as Denri charged him. The Dragon-type attempted to fly away, but Denri grabbed him by the tail and threw him on the ground. The strength of shadows lent him more force, and the Vibrava was stunned on impact. Any further attempt to escape was cut short when Denri put his foot on the creature’s windpipe. He pressed down just a little bit, and the shadow in his heart was delighted at the naked panic in the Vibrava’s eyes, the way his front two legs scrabbled against Denri’s leg while the back ones clawed the ground in an attempt at escape.

 

Around him the fires were spreading, and elderly humans were staggering out of their houses with pokemon in tow. Somewhere, a purple flare lit up the sky—and a few seconds later more fires spread, at least a dozen of them, spread across the village like jewels in a mineshaft.

 

Somewhere deep inside, Denri knew that he ought to be worried about the flames, but all he cared about was giving the Vibrava a slow end. He pushed harder with his foot and the creature whimpered, his resistance weakening. He opened his mouth as if to breathe more fire, but all that emerged was a ragged gasp as he fought for air.

 

 _This is what you were_ made _for,_ purred the darkness. _You heard him. He serves your tormentors. He has his entire life._ Denri pushed harder. _Strike back… do it…_ _end him._

 

It wouldn’t be hard. He’d killed before. He could do it again, easy. He stared down at the creature’s terrified face, quickly turning mottled blue for lack of oxygen, wanting to see the look in his eyes as the light faded.

 

This was what he lived for. Vengeance. Violence. The _thrill._ He—

 

The Vibrava whimpered, and behind it there was a desperate, trailed-out “ _Please…_ ” and Denri blinked long enough to remember where he was, and _who_ he was, and dammit, he wasn’t going to succumb again. Not this time!

 

Clawing self-control away from the shadow, fighting for it every step, Denri forced himself off the Vibrava. The Dragon-type gasped for air, crawling away as if afraid Denri would change his mind and finish the job. Without direct violence to feed it, the shadow lessened enough that Denri could beat it down until it was nothing more than a low and sullen song in his heart.

 

“I will be back for you,” Denri growled at the Vibrava, transferring the loathing he felt at himself onto this creature, “once I clean up your mess—and then we can talk about where your orders came from.”

 

Most of the nearby houses had been vacated, and just in time; the fire was spreading more and more. Straw roofs, wooden fences, logpiles, and even walls were ablaze; Denri felt the heat pulsing on him in waves. The retired and elderly trainers of Agate stared at their burning domiciles with gaping mouths, but one house had a Poochyena desperately pawing at the front. “She’s still inside!” he was wailing. “Someone help her!”

 

Though the shadow demanded he go back to the Vibrava and finish the job, Denri decided that today it was his turn to _save_ lives, not to take them. Rushing to the house, he smashed down the wooden door with a roar.

 

It had been blocked from the inside by a toppled bookshelf, and an old woman was sprawled on the floor, clutching her hip. Her face contorted in agony.

 

Denri approached, trying to lift her up. The old woman staggered the moment she tried to put weight on her limbs, and Denri cursed. This was _not_ how this was supposed to go.

 

A groan from up above heralded a collapsing beam. Denri shielded the old lady, grunting as his back took splinters and embers, the sensations biting at him. Getting her over the bookshelf and past the ruined door would have been a chore, but with the collapsed beam it was basically a fool’s errand.

 

“Stay here,” he said, gently resting her on the floor. “I’ll be right back.” He hoped his tone conveyed the message her words could not, but as he ran to find another way out, her sobs echoed behind him: “Don’t leave me,” she begged. “Please!”

 

 _Sorry, lady,_ he thought. _I’m coming back, I swear!_

 

The nearby pantry had a window with a heavy latch. Denri fumbled with it—damn humans and their dexterous hands! They always made everything so finicky!—before finally managing to swing it open.

 

Returning to the main room, he grabbed the old woman and half-carried, half-dragged her into the pantry. The accumulated injuries he’d caught from the Vibrava were catching up with him, and he found himself panting. “Here!” he called out when he was close to the window. “Here, I’m here!”

 

Before long the small, concerned face of the Poochyena popped over into view. Denri hoisted the old lady as high up as he could, until her collar was even with the windowsill. The Poochyena grabbed the back of her blouse with his mouth, and as he dragged her out, Denri hoisted her with a grunt. After she managed to make it outside, he looked back, his heart dropping at what he saw. The entire living room was ablaze; picture frames, upholstered sofas, and old rugs had been consumed in the fire, which was now merrily lapping at the walls and floor. The old lady’s life had hopefully been spared, but how much had she lost?

 

Hauling out the window after her, Denri guarded her while the Poochyena managed to alert other humans, who took over administering first aid. Looking about, Denri was astonished to see the devastation. Half of Agate seemed to be alight; thus far the flames were confined to the houses and huts of the villagers, but it was only a matter of time until it spread to the trees and fields. And then what?

 

It didn’t matter how many times he individually braved the flames. So long as these fires were raging, countless lives would be imperiled. But all he could do was call lightning! How could he put them out? How?

 

And then, like a bell pealing in response to a prayer, came Manny swooping out of the sky.

 

The Mantine doused the fires with water, drowning the flames in a deluge. Not long afterward, the ground churned itself into mud, which swept over lingering embers and cleared out houses, and Reed emerged from the shadows. Topaz and Clasm, the two pokemon of Rui’s grandparents, followed close behind.

 

Whooping with delight, Denri raced forward and swept Reed up in a fierce hug. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you guys!”

 

Reed politely yet firmly pushed Denri away as Manny touched down by them. “So that’s where you were,” the Mantine said. “Rui was terrified.”

 

“What’s going on?” Denri asked.

 

“Someone’s invading the woods by the Relic!” Topaz said, his cheeks sparking. “Your trainer took the Eeveelutions, Striga, and her Fighting-type to go chase them, while we came down to deal with the fires.”

 

“And not a moment too soon,” Denri said in praise.

 

But their exultation was short-lived. Before long, a cottage on the other side of a small thicket went up in flames.

 

“What?” Reed said, his normally flat voiced edged with irritation. “We were just there!”

 

Thinking back to the Vibrava and his stooges, Denri growled. “The fires are being started deliberately. Pokemon are going around starting as many as they can—probably to divert manpower from the forest! I found a ringleader…”

 

But as he turned to show them the Vibrava, he realized too late that the Dragon-type was nowhere to be seen.

 

The shadow within him snarled in fury, but Denri soothed it back to sleep with the memory of the old lady and the Poochyena. He had made the right choice. He had chosen life over death.

 

“He’s gone,” he said. “But the fires will keep up unless we deal with all the ones starting them.”

 

“Me, Topaz, and the Ampharos will split up, stamping out these ruffians,” Clasm said, effortlessly seizing control of the situation. “You Water-types put out as many fires as you can.”

 

Nodding, the pokemon split.

 

It wasn’t too long before Denri found his first troublemaker, a small Slugma hiding behind a rock. The moment a fire looked ready to die, the small Fire-type spat more flame at it to keep it alive. Denri sent her packing with a single spark.

 

Nearby, he heard the sounds of a fight. Bursting onto the scene, he saw Topaz angrily scrabbling over a snarling Charmeleon, the Pikachu already sporting a few burns. “I’ve got this!” Topaz screamed. “Go find another one; go!” Against his better judgment, Denri ran.

 

He ran to where another fire had blinked to life. The culprit this time was an Electric-type, a small Voltorb, whom he shorted out by kicking into a nearby stream.

 

“That wasn’t so hard,” Denri said, panting.

 

“Lucky you,” came a rasping voice from behind his ear.

 

He was knocked to the earth with a gasp, a familiar buzzing circling him. The Vibrava had returned.

 

“Stupid Ampharos bitch,” came the creature’s now-ragged voice, and a fierce cascade of mud slapped at Denri. He staggered back, grunting. The attack _hurt._

 

“Don’t call me a bitch,” Denri growled, launching a lightning bolt at the creature. “I’m no girl!” The antlion pokemon took it head-on without even flinching. _Oh, right. Ground-type._

 

“Don’t really care,” the Vibrava said, blasting fire at him. Denri tried to dodge but the accumulated aches and pains were weighing him down, and he took the attack head-on, staggering back. “Whatever you call yourself, you’re gonna burn all the same. And once they saw that I took down a renegade shadow, they’ll make me a shadow myself—a powerful pokemon to serve the cipher.”

 

He whipped his wings, and a cyclone of dust and mud battered Denri, making him sag to his knees. The Ampharos had no way of fighting back—all his lightning was useless against such an adversary, and he was far too tired to get physical. Reed and Manny were putting out fires, and the others were with Rui in the forest. He was alone. He had no chance.

 

 _Give in,_ urged the shadows. _Do it._

 

Memory bit at him: himself rampaging on the rooftop. The disaster in the Red & White. The life he had lived as an enforcer, killing pokemon for his trainers; anything to get away from the awful things they had done to him in that lab. _Killing._ It had been so _easy._

 

But now he had friends and a trainer who loved him. Now he was a hero who saved people.

 

 _I won’t_ , he told the shadow, and it seethed in resentment.

 

_Then you will die._

 

Denri looked up, feeling the ache in his bones, and saw the Vibrava staring him down with hatred, gathering fire in his maw. There was nothing to do. There was nowhere to run.

 

 _Yeah,_ he thought, _looks like I am._ _But I died as myself._

 

He closed his eyes and waited for the finishing blow.

 

But it never came.

 

The Vibrava screamed and Denri snapped his eyes open to see Clasm’s fist take the Vibrava in his face. The Dragon’s attack went errant, soaring past Denri and smashing into an overturned rock. The Vibrava turned to snarl at Clasm, only for the Combusken to grapple him. Jumping up, Clasm angled the Vibrava to slam into the ground with Clasm’s own weight landing on top of him. He pulled off the move and—

 

_Crack._

 

The sound was not that loud, all things considering, but it carried nonetheless. Clasm stood shakily off the Vibrava. The Dragon-type’s eye stared unblinkingly up through its emerald lens. He was dead.

 

“That shouldn’t have—” Clasm was saying. “I didn’t think it would—”

 

“That’s the pokemon I mentioned before,” Denri said. “I wore him out earlier. Almost killed him.” Slowly forcing himself to rise, he grunted. “He probably would have survived your attack if he wasn’t running on fumes. It’s not your fault.”

 

Clasm stared down at the Vibrava, then glanced over at Denri. “Look at you,” he said with weariness. “The young pup comforting the elder. Should be the other way around.”

 

Denri limped over to Clasm, and the latter sighed, staring down at the Vibrava again. “So this is the ringleader, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Denri said. “Probably the only decent battler. All the firestarters I found were easy pickings otherwise. I expect without him holding it together, the problem should sort itself out.”

 

“We can only hope.” Stepping away, Clasm sank to the ground. “I’m too old to do this. My son and your two friends can handle the rest.”

 

Denri wanted to protest and insist that they had more to do—but his body was worn through with exhaustion, and he was forced to confront that he was spent too.

 

Sinking down near Clasm, he glanced up at the aged Combusken. “Is it your first time?” he asked softly.

 

Clasm shook his head. “Two other times, both in my youth, both wilds, both accidents.” He exhaled. “They were territorial and wouldn’t stay down… I was protecting my own. Like I was here. I… take no pleasure in this.”

 

Swallowing, Denri replied: “I… used to.”

 

Clasm eyed him.

 

“But not anymore.” He turned away from the Vibrava that had almost killed him, unable to stomach looking at him any longer. The shadow in his heart had faded away. “Not anymore.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, and with a vengeance! Everything is going crazy in this chapter~
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I'm pretty proud of it. And don't worry--we'll see what Rui and co were up to in the next chapter (;


End file.
